


Worse Than the Cure

by The Neon Gang (clgfanfic)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Appendicitis, Hurt/Comfort, Old West, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 21:39:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4721444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/The%20Neon%20Gang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vin ends up fighting for his life, and his friends cannot help him the way they wish they could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worse Than the Cure

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Let's Ride #6. This story is based on an all-time favorite Alias Smith and Jones story, one of the very first fan fics I ever read in fact. Many, many, many years ago I asked the author of that ASJ story if I could borrow the basic plot idea and do as a Mag7 story. She said sure, since she'd borrowed elements from a variety of places. Don't we all! So the basic plot line comes from that story. We dropped a romance component, wanting to explore the friendship between Chris and Vin instead. Supporting characters are changed. And if the original author ever wants us to take this down, we will happily do so. So, we hope you enjoy this take on an appendix gone bad...

**Just after sunset, Wednesday**

 

          "Reckon they're four, maybe five miles ahead," Vin announced after he finished checking the tracks he'd found on the ground. "Best not build a fire t'night." And with that advice, the tracker scrambled up onto a rocky ridge and pulled out his spyglass to sweep the landscape like a sharp-eyed hawk.

          The sun was setting, ushering in a dark, chill night in the desert. A white half-moon waned above the rocky rise they had stopped near for the night and did nothing to warm the trail-weary men.

With a soft sigh, Chris Larabee bade farewell to his hopes for a hot meal and some coffee. "You sure?"

          "Hell, Chris, who else would be fool enough t' camp out on a night like this?"

          "Us," Larabee replied dryly.

          Tanner closed up his spyglass and slid down from his rocky perch, wincing as he landed. He walked back to their waiting horses and Larabee.

          "Something wrong?" Chris asked, frowning slightly when he saw Tanner wasn't moving with his usual cat-like grace.

          "Jist a stitch in m' side, ain't nothin'," was the reply.

The two men took care of their horses, then set about making a camp for themselves.

Vin broke the silence that settled over them, saying, "After we catch this bunch, think 'm goin' t' head up t' the hills fer a few days… ya want t' come along?"

          Chris allowed himself a rare smile. "Think I could do that," he said softly, knowing the tracker didn't extend an invitation like that lightly. Tanner enjoyed his time alone, and being invited to share it was a rare gift indeed.

          Vin nodded in reply, a small, pleased smile lifting the corners of his mouth. It still amazed the tracker that he'd found a friend like Chris Larabee. The man might as well be blood family, or something more that he had no white man's word to explain. "Yer turn t' fix us up somethin' t' eat."

          Larabee snorted softly. "Stale biscuits and old jerky is the best I can do without a fire." He set about digging the food out of his saddlebags.

The two men had been on the trail for three days now, riding hard after a bunch of renegade Apaches who had slipped over the Mexican border to prey on the farmers, who offered little threat to the well-seasoned warriors. But the five fugitives hadn't counted on the seven regulators that had been hired to protect Four Corners and the surrounding territory. When the Indians had realized that they were being hunted, a day into the chase, they had split up. Chris and Vin had followed one trail, Buck, JD and Ezra the second. Larabee sent Josiah and Nathan out to some of the more distant farms in order to warn the families of the threat. With luck they would all meet up in Rudy Wells in a day or two, the renegades either captured or dead.

          The two men ate in companionable silence, both as comfortable with the lack of words as they were with breathing in one another's company. But Larabee noted that Vin was just nibbling on his jerky and he only finished off one biscuit, using water to soften it up.

          When they finished, Vin looked out at the darkness and said, "I'll take first watch."

          "All right," Chris agreed, tired enough not to argue with him. He pulled off his boots, then snuggled under the blanket from his bedroll, dead to the world until Vin woke him a few hours later. He took over the watch, letting the tracker sleep for three hours, then they traded off again so he could get another short nap. And so the night passed.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ * ~ *

 

**Thursday morning**

 

          Both men were up and headed out again before sunrise, leading their horses. They followed a trail of sorts, but it was too rough to risk their mounts riding in the darkness.

          "Watch yer face," Vin called quietly.

          A moment later Larabee caught the wiry branches that whipped back at him after Tanner passed. The gunman knew underbrush this thick would have been worn away if the trail got any regular use, but he also knew that the renegades wouldn't want to use any well-worn paths. Tanner was following the signs of trampled plants, although how the tracker was able to see them in the darkness, Chris didn't know. At least the sky was getting lighter in the east; a little longer and they would be able to ride again. And no doubt the renegades would as well.

          "This trail's too obvious," Larabee commented when he began to see the signs for himself.

          "Hell, Lar'bee, tell me somethin' I don't already know," Tanner snapped.

          Chris frowned. "Something wrong, pard?"

          "No," was the immediate reply, full of apology. It was followed a moment later by, "Yeah."

In the growing light Larabee saw the tracker shrug.

"Hell, 'm sorry, Chris," Tanner apologized. "Got me a bellyache; makes me a mite prickly." He grinned at the gunslinger over his shoulder. "Must be yer damn cookin'."

Larabee shook his head. "Hell, my belly's starting to think my throat's been cut. You're probably hungry. You want some jerky? There's a little left."

Vin shook his head. "Let's ride."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          As the mountains rose higher in front of them, the underbrush along the trail thinned out, finally fading to almost nothing. Tanner never lost the trail he was tracking, though, even if he did grow even quieter than usual, which had Larabee worried. But he knew any questions he asked about it would only be met by stony silence, so he didn't bother, choosing to keep a closer eye on the man instead. What he saw did nothing to ease his concern.

          Vin was moving slower than usual, stiffly at times, too. And Chris heard the tracker's breath catch a few times when Tanner squatted down, or leaned over too far as he peered at a track. They were small things, but together added up to something Larabee didn't like.

          Around noon Vin found a clear spring and stopped to fill their canteens and water their horses. He moved slowly around the pool, checking the ground once, twice, and then three times.

          "You find something?" Larabee ventured, watching the tracker work with a confused frown.

          Vin straightened slowly, a slightly puzzled expression on his face. "Ain't sure." He wiped away the sweat gathering on his upper lip, then scrubbed his eyes with the balls of his hand.

          Now that was truly worrisome – more so than Tanner's odd movement, or lack of interest in food and conversation of any kind. Larabee had _never_ seen the young tracker stumped before. "So, what do we do?"

          "Keep goin'," Vin replied with a weary sigh, and they mounted and headed out again.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Later that same afternoon Vin recognized the landmarks and wondered out loud if the three renegades they were following might not have tried to use the unique formation to double back on them. And damn if he wasn't right.

The trail they were currently following passed by a narrow rock ledge that angled away parallel to the ridge of the mountain instead of cutting across it like most. The spur this created curved sharply away from the main trail and passed out of sight for several hundred feet. And, best of all – or so the renegades must have thought – the spot where the spur left the trail was easily concealed with a couple of uprooted shrubs and a few handfuls of desert sand. But Vin had lived among the Kiowa and the Comanche, and he'd hunted buffalo while living with the northern cousins of the men they were now tracking. He recognized all the tricks that the renegades had used to conceal their passage, and for that Larabee was eternally grateful, because if he hadn't, they both probably would have ended up dead.

Tanner veered around the spur and came in behind the renegades, getting the drop on them, but they still fought like the warriors they were. In the end of the short but pitched battle, Larabee and Tanner prevailed, killing all three of the Apaches and escaping with only minor injuries.

They tied the bodies of the dead men to the backs of their ponies and rode on, heading for Rudy Wells.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

As the sun dipped low in the west, Larabee guided his horse over to a copse of small trees growing where the rock-ledge path they had been following broadened out. He swung down saying, "I'm going to fix us some hot supper tonight."

Tanner grimaced as he tethered his horse and started to unbuckle his cinch. "Ain't hungry," he said, his voice dulled by pain.

Chris let the subject drop for the moment, but he fixed enough hot beans for two, and plenty of coffee, hoping the smells might rekindle Tanner's appetite.

Vin finished caring for his horse, then walked over and sat down across from Larabee at the campfire. He sat absolutely still for a long moment, staring at the food, and then apparently decided that he might be hungry after all. But he didn't eat much.

"I'll take first watch," Tanner announced as soon as he was finished.

"Vin, if you're not feeling so good, maybe you should get some rest."

"Yer gonna make a real good mama some day, Lar'bee." And over Chris' resulting splutter, he added, "Hell, 'til m' innerds settle some I ain't goin' t' be able t' sleep, so ya might as well get what ya c'n."

"That bad?" Chris asked, his worry climbing again.

"Felt better," the tracker replied and then added immediately, "felt worse, too." Then, with a wordless shrug, he stood and left the fire.

Larabee watched him go, trying to string together the clues he had been gathering over the past couple of days. Tanner was in pain, that much was clear. His appetite was gone, he didn't seem to be sleeping well and his belly was giving him trouble. And as he continued to watch the tracker at his horse, he realized that Vin's movements still weren't quite right. He stood too slowly and walked too carefully, almost as if he'd had too much to drink. And it wasn't sore muscles either. They had both been saddle sore and beaten up enough times for Larabee to recognize what that would have looked like. Whatever this was, it was something unusual. And that was where his worry came from. Unusual in this harsh land more often than not meant dead.

As Tanner returned to the fire with his bedroll, Chris braced himself for an argument and said, "Vin, I think we ought to get you into town, have Nathan take a look at you."

"'M fine, Chris."

"Ya ain't much of a liar, Tanner."

Vin flashed him a warning glower, clearly not happy about the direction the conversation was taking. But Larabee would not be deterred.

"How much longer do you think you'll be able to ride?"

The tracker's eyes narrowed and he pulled his knees a little closer to his chest, resting his arms on his knees. "Reckon as long as I need to," he stated flatly, then he leaned forward and tossed a handful of dirt onto the tiny campfire, nearly putting it out. "Get some sleep, Cowboy."

Larabee sighed softly, knowing he'd lost that hand with the tracker. Well, it wouldn't be the last. He could be just as stubborn as Tanner. "All right… damn stubborn Texan… wake me up when you're ready to turn in."

Tanner didn't look up, he just nodded.

Larabee lay down and closed his eyes, but he didn't fall asleep right away. He went over the path he thought Josiah and Nathan might have taken when they had all split up back on Monday, and decided that there was a good chance they might have reached Rudy Wells today. He guessed that they'd stay there tonight, and probably one more night as well before they headed back to Four Corners. With a little luck, he and Vin might be able to catch up to the two men there tomorrow and the healer could get a look at Tanner.

He'd see to it he and Vin took the quickest trail to the small community in the morning.

He heard Tanner shift with a soft grunt, then heard the resulting half-swallowed gasp as well. He frowned, but he knew he wouldn't be able to wring any more cooperation out of the man than he'd already gotten – which was none. Damn stubborn fool.

Turning over, he found a comfortable spot and fell soundly asleep.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Vin gazed out at the darkness and shivered. For most of his life he'd embraced the darkness as a friend and ally, especially after he'd taken up bounty hunting. When he wanted to sneak up on someone, nothing could beat the night. But when there was a need to keep quiet and listen, combined with a cold, unrelenting nausea, then the dark could suddenly become very long, lonely and threatening.

          The tracker rested his cheek against the cool face of a boulder as he unscrewed his canteen cap and then took a sip of the tepid water inside. It didn't help, though. Nothing seemed to be helping any more. He knew the pressure in his guts would continue to build until he threw up, then ease for a little while before starting to build again.

He couldn't understand why his belly wouldn't behave itself. There was nothing left to cause it any upset, that much, at least, he was sure of. A case of grippe would come with a fever, but he didn't have a fever. In fact, he was cool and clammy. It just made no sense to him, and it scared him. He'd seen too many of his Indian family killed by disease over the years. He'd rather go by a bullet.

          Vin pulled his blanket up over his shoulders and wrapped his arms around his stomach. It wouldn't be quite so bad if the pain would just let up a little, but it persisted, sharp and burning, hour after hour, wearing him down until it felt like he had no strength left to draw upon.

He thought briefly about waking Larabee, but there was no point to that. He might as well let Chris sleep. Besides, no matter what the stubborn gunslinger said, he still hadn't completely healed from the wound he himself had suffered when one of Ella Gains' men had shot him in the final battle before the bitch had escaped. He was doing better than the tracker, that was true, but Vin still knew the gunman could use the additional sleep.

          There would be no sleeping for him, not with the pain so strong and constant, but it was so damn cold and quiet. If he didn't hear Larabee occasionally shift in his sleep, he might have believed that the world had disappeared, leaving him to suffer all alone in the darkness. He would rather have his friend sitting next to him, but he'd always suffered alone and, when it came right down to it, he was afraid to ask for Larabee's help, afraid that if he asked for too much, he would find himself alone again. He knew that wouldn't happen, but still the fear remained.

          Something inside cramped again and Vin bit back a low moan, then took a deep breath and forced himself to relax as much as he could. It wasn't easy, but he managed it after a time. Maybe he _should_ wake Chris, he thought again.

          No. There was nothing Chris could do and it would only set the man to worrying again, and he seemed to be doing plenty of that already. It would be better in the morning, when it was warmer.

He tugged the blanket tighter around his shoulders. Maybe that was it, he decided. It was just the chill that was just making him feel so bad. Once the sun came up he'd feel better. He doubted he could feel much worse.

          But oh the time passed slowly, so slowly.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Friday morning**

 

Vin jerked awake when something unidentified skittered over his boot. What little he could see through the trees was starting to show traces of grey. _Mornin' already?_ he wondered as he scanned the clearing, his heart racing. Larabee was still rolled up in his blanket and sound asleep, and the horses were yanking up sparse grass and underbrush where they were tied. Whatever had awakened him was nowhere in sight.

Breathing a soft sigh of relief, he relaxed. He was a damn fool, falling asleep like that. Mistakes like that could get him killed, especially being a wanted man like he was. But it seemed that no harm had been done – this time. And for that he thanked whatever spirits or gods might be looking out for him – if any.

          He pushed himself up onto one knee and immediately doubled over when his stomach coiled tightly in protest. Then there was an explosion of pain in his gut, stripping away his breath and his awareness.

The next thing Vin knew, Larabee was holding him in a seated position with one hand, the tracker's shoulder leaning heavily against Chris' chest. In the gunman's other hand he held a cool, damp cloth that he was pressing to Vin's forehead.

As his insides began to still, Tanner sagged against the man, more grateful for the support than he ever imagined he could be. "Thanks, pard," he rasped out, reaching up to take the cloth and wipe his face, his hand shaking slightly as he did.

          Chris continued to hold Tanner until he was finished, then sat back on his heels, studying him. "Why didn't you wake me?" he asked, fear quaking through his own guts.

          "Weren't sleepy," Tanner rasped, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

          "Vin, how long have you been getting sick like this?" Larabee asked softly, but there was an iron core to the tone that made it clear that he would have an answer – or else.

          "Jist a little bit. Told ya I should 'a skipped them beans fer supper last night."

          Larabee's look was skeptical. "I'll go get the horses ready. You rest. We're getting you to Nathan today."

Vin felt too miserable to argue, so he just watched as the gunslinger fed the horses the last of the oats from their saddle bags and then saddled them.

When Larabee finished, Tanner tossed the cloth aside and carefully climbed to his feet, using the large rock he'd been leaning against for part of the night to help support and steady himself. He took a few tentative steps toward the horses, then stopped and carefully stretched. It felt good to move around after sitting still for so long, but he quickly discovered that he couldn't straighten up all the way; it simply hurt too much.

Chris broke the camp and then walked over to join him, asking, "Ready?"

Vin nodded, allowing the man to walk him over to the waiting black geldings. Just looking at his saddle, Tanner knew that lifting his foot to step into the stirrup was going to be a challenge, and he wasn't wrong.

As Vin hauled himself up and started to swing his right leg over the saddle, molten agony shot through him. It felt like someone had driven a white-hot poker deep into his guts. He gasped sharply and pitched forward, falling to the ground. The hard landing jarred thought and awareness out of him and, for an endless moment, nothing existed but the pain, unlike anything he had ever felt before, and he had hurt, badly, many, many times in the past. It just didn't seem possible to be this bad without being dead. Then he heard a low, tormented moan, and it took him a few moments to realize that it was him making the sound. He tried to stop himself, but he had no control over his body, none at all.

Then the agony eased into a burning throb in his right side, still bad, but finally tolerable. He frowned, realizing for the first time that somebody was shaking him, speaking to him.

          "Vin? Vin, what the hell's wrong? Damn it, Tanner, talk to me."

          The tracker took as deep a breath as he dared, shivering as he let it out in a rush. Mornings were sure getting cold these days. "'M fine," he managed.

          "Could've fooled me," Chris replied, tone half-annoyed, half-worried. "What happened?"

          "Ain't sure," Vin said. "Couldn't get m' leg over m' saddle." He tensed against the chills that began to wrack his body and tried to keep his tone light. "Hell, Chris, ain't sure I c'n get on m' horse."

          "Yes, you can." Larabee's positive tone didn't match the worried look on his face. "We'll find a way."

          Vin nodded, leaning into Chris' support as the gunman helped him to his feet. He stumbled a couple of steps forward, but caught himself and managed a grin. "Got any ideas?"

          Larabee did. And, thank goodness, Tanner's usually cantankerous horse was willing to go along with it.

Chris helped Vin step up onto a rock, steadied him, and then guided the tracker's leg as he carefully slid into his saddle.

Once he was settled, and his stomach stopped trying to twist itself into knots, Tanner forced himself to sit up as straight as he could, ground his teeth together tightly and concentrated on staying right where he was while Chris led both horses out onto the trail, the renegades’ ponies, still carrying their burdens, tied in a line secured to Pony's saddle horn.

          It was more than a little embarrassing for the tracker to have a ride down an easy trail become a trial by ordeal but, as the miles passed, Vin began to suspect that every muscle in his body must be connected directly to the throbbing ache that had settled in his right side. Any pull or twitch would set off an eruption of agony that had him hunching over his saddle horn, his fingers wrapped tightly around it to hold himself in the saddle while he rode it out. And, worse still, the occasional jarring by his horse's usually smooth gait aggravated his queasiness, and he was forced to stop as he got sick. Vin knew that bothered Chris, not to mention the horses, but he just couldn't get his stomach under control no matter how resolute he was about it.

So, by the time a few hours had passed, he was more than ready to ask Larabee to shoot him where he sat to put him out of his misery. But that would have required speech, and he was too weak to even attempt that. All he could do was to hang on and hope that whatever Spirits had been looking after him thus far would see him through this trouble as well.

          To pass the time, and to occupy his thoughts, Vin kept his gaze fixed on Larabee's back, grateful as he never had been before that he wasn't alone, and that he had a friend so close at hand. It was far more comforting than he'd ever expected, and his silent gratitude caused tears to fill his eyes, blurring his vision.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Larabee listened and watched as his friend suffered in silence, and tried to come up with something – _anything_ – that might help him. Of all the emotions, helplessness was the one that galled the gunman most, and he was determined to find a way to ease Tanner's pain.

And he finally hit on something a few hours into the ride. He pulled his gelding to a stop, Peso and the other horses coming to a halt as well.

          Stepping down from his saddle, Chris walked over and looked up at Tanner. "Got an idea, ya want to hear it?"

          Vin nodded, looking at least as miserable as he felt. Chris told him what he had in mind, and the tracker nodded again, willing to try almost anything.

          Larabee carefully eased one of Tanner's feet out of his stirrup and then shortened the length. That done, he gently fitted Tanner's boot back into the stirrup and did the same with the second, then he took a step back and asked, "That help at all?"

          Vin waited for a moment as his body adjusted to the change, then he nodded. "Reckon it does. Thanks, Cowboy."

          Chris nodded, lightly patting Tanner's leg, then swung back into his saddle. He clucked to his horse and they set off again heading straight for Rudy Wells.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Larabee kept a close eye on Vin as the day wore on, the tracker's condition worsening with each passing hour. He stopped whenever he saw that Tanner's stomach was about to rebel, waiting until the dry heaves let up and they could continue on.

After each bout, he saw Tanner grew weaker and Chris knew it wouldn't be too much longer before Vin wasn't able to keep himself on his horse. He dreaded that time, knowing Vin would fight him when Larabee either had to tie him into the saddle or shift to riding double. It was hard for the younger man to ask for help, although Larabee suspected that it had far less to do with pride than it did with the simple fact that he'd been forced to do for himself almost all of his life.

As the sun drifted past its midpoint in the sky, Chris worried that they might not be going fast enough to reach Rudy Wells before Nathan and Josiah left, even if they left tomorrow morning after sunrise. They really needed to pick up the pace, but he wasn't sure Tanner would be able to tolerate it.

          "Think you can take another hour or two?" he asked Vin.

          "Reckon so," Tanner rasped.

          Chris nodded and urged the horses to move a little faster, praying silently that Vin could just hang on a little longer.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The light from the setting sun gave the tracker more color than he'd had all day, but it also showed that Tanner's mouth was nothing more than a tight line of stubborn determination. The tracker sat, hunched miserably over his saddle horn, his strength all but gone.

The ride had clearly cost Tanner dearly, but there was nothing Larabee could do about it. Still, he still found himself asking, "You want to rest for a bit?"

          "No." Tanner looked up, sky-blue eyes unusually dull and unfocused. "I get off… won't be gettin' back on."

          "Hungry?"

          "As a bear after a long winter, but if ya think 'm eatin' anything… yer a lot crazier 'n I thought ya are."

          "Drink some water then," Chris said with a slight smile, handing him an open canteen.

          They shared a drink, then started off down the wide wagon road that would take them around the easy slope of a low mountain pass.

          "Think we'll catch up to 'em?" Tanner asked softly, and Chris knew the tracker meant Nathan and Josiah.

          "I'm hoping so."

          "Me, too," Tanner said, sending a bolt of fear straight through Larabee's heart. Tanner _never_ asked for or wanted help unless he was in a very bad way. That he was basically asking for it now was enough to leave the gunslinger shaking with dread.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Four grim hours later a small cluster of lights appeared around the next bend. Rudy Wells, Chris knew and a sigh of relief escaped his lips. How Tanner had made it this far he wasn't sure, but he knew it must be a testament to the man's grit – and Josiah's claim that there really was a God in Heaven.

          Almost another hour later they finally rode into the small community of Rudy Wells. The saloons were the only businesses still open, although a light shone in the sheriff's office as well. Chris started for the first of the two saloons, hoping to find Nathan and Josiah there, but as they passed the door to the sheriff's office it opened and three men stepped out onto the boardwalk.

          "Chris," Vin hissed softly, his head dipping lower.

          Larabee looked over at the hunched man. "You all right?"

          "Those three," Tanner said, jerking his chin in the direction of the sheriff's office, "they's bounty hunters… know 'bout me. Keep going t' the livery."

          Larabee clucked to his gelding, hurrying the string of horses on to the livery. He would be very glad to drop the dead off with the undertaker. Dismounting at the large barn, he waited a moment, and when no one appeared, he opened the door and led his and Tanner's horses inside, leaving the other three tied to the corral outside. Vin stayed mounted.

"You be all right here if I go see whether Nathan and Josiah are still in town?"

          "They's here," Vin rasped, jerking his chin to the right as he slowly pulled the Mare's Leg from its holster on his leg.

          Chris looked, spotting Apostle and Whiskey in two of the stalls. "All right, stay here, I'll be back as soon as I find them."

          "Prob'ly at the saloon."

          "Probably," Larabee agreed, watching from the door of the livery as the three bounty hunters mounted and headed out of town in the direction they'd just come from. "They're leavin'."

          Tanner nodded, too tired to do anything more. Still, he'd keep the Mare's Leg in his hands, just in case, although he knew if he tried to fire it, the recoil would probably knock him right off his horse.

          "I'll be back before you know it."

          Another nod.

          Larabee waited until the bounty hunters were out of sight, then hurried down the street to the largest of the two saloons. He paused outside, allowing his eyes to adjust to the light before he stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the patrons. Josiah and Nathan were seated at a table in a corner, eating. Sanchez looked up as Larabee's gaze rested on him, then he grinned in greeting and waved him over.

Chris crossed the room swiftly, saying, "Nathan, Vin needs you," as soon as he reached the pair.

          Both men stood, their meals instantly forgotten. "What's wrong?" the healer asked, frowning with concern.

          "Don't know. Come on," Larabee said, leading the way out of the saloon.

"I'll go see if there's a local doctor," Josiah said, veering off and heading for the sheriff's office once they were outside on the boardwalk.

Larabee looked at Nathan and said, "Hurry."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

At the livery, Nathan's practiced gaze swept over the hunched tracker, his frown deepening. "Vin?" he called, Tanner apparently not even noticing that they'd arrived.

"Nate?" Tanner rasped, his head jerking up, as did the Mare's Leg in his hands.

Jackson approached the tracker slowly, his hands held out so the man could see he was unarmed. He wasn't sure he wanted to reach out and touch Tanner until the man was more aware. "Vin, you all right?"

Tanner radiated the agony he was so clearly in. "'M powerful all-overish," he said softly, holstering the Mare's Leg.

Nathan nodded, moving closer. "Tell me where you're hurtin'."

"M' side," the tracker said, his voice as weak as he looked.

"Which one?"

"Right."

Larabee listened as the questions continued for a while longer. Then Josiah arrived and told them, "Medical man normally lives here in town, but he's up in Sheltonville. Sheriff says his wife might be able to help, though."

Chris nodded. "Let's get him over there."

Josiah roused the livery man, paying him for his care of their horses. At the same time, Nathan and Chris saddled the two geldings so they were ready to go.

The four regulators headed through town, stopping at the hotel long enough for Nathan and Josiah to fetch their saddlebags from the room they had shared. And then at the undertakers to drop off the three dead Indians. The man wasn't happy about the late night business, but a dollar from Larabee sent him on his way to deal with them.

Vin swayed dangerously with each step Peso took, and Chris and Nathan moved up as close as they dared on either side of the ill-tempered gelding, trying to make sure the tracker didn't fall.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The doctor's house was at the far end of town, a two-story structure with a large porch running along the front. Larabee tied his and Vin's horse to the hitching rail at the front, suddenly reluctant. "I don't like it," he said quietly to Nathan. "He needs a doctor, not a doctor's wife."

Tanner's voice was barely a whisper. "Can't ride no farther, Chris."

That comment sent a cold chill snaking down Larabee's back and he knew that this was as far as the tracker was going.

"Let's just get him inside, get a good look at him," Nathan said. "Then we can decide what to do. But he needs some rest off Peso's back." He glanced up at Vin and asked, "Can you get down?"

Tanner nodded and started to move, but as soon as he did, he sagged with a strangled groan and toppled out of his saddle. Josiah was barely quick enough to catch the tracker before he hit the ground.

Carefully shifting his semi-conscious burden in his arms, the preacher headed straight for the house. "Not your finest moment, brother," he said softly.

"Sorry, J'isah," Vin mumbled, "powerful dizzy in m' head."

Josiah chuckled and shook his head. He hadn't realized Tanner was awake enough to hear him, but the tracker was obviously clinging tenaciously to consciousness. "No need to worry, brother."

"Put me down, J'siah," the tracker managed when they reached the porch, and Sanchez did just that as Larabee clapped the brass knocker on the door three times, each rap a little louder than the last one.

A dog barked from somewhere inside the house and a few moments later they heard footsteps approaching the door. An older woman in a plain blue gingham dress opened the door. She held a lamp in one hand, the other resting on the head of the dog, a large collie-like animal, who wagged his tail in greeting.

Josiah and Nathan both removed their hats, and Vin lifted his hand so he could touch his finger to the brim of his. Larabee, however, just said, "Ma'am, we're sorry to disturb you so late, but our friend is very sick."

"The sheriff thought you might be able to help," Josiah added, hoping to allay any fears she might have, finding four strange men on her porch in the middle of the night.

"Well, yes, please, come in," she said, opening the door wider. "I'll go wake Fredrick and we'll see what we can do to help your friend." She set the lamp she carried on a small table beside a cushioned bench in the hallway. "You can wait here for a moment." she said, seeing the way Vin shuffled into the house. The dog trotted away at her side.

Vin let out a sigh of relief as he settled himself on the bench.

"It feel better to sit down?" Nathan asked, hoping to distract Tanner from the pain that seemed to hold him in its grip. He sat next to the tracker and eased the man's hide coat off as carefully as he could.

Vin nodded, unable to respond as the agony flared, tightening the black ring encroaching upon his vision, narrowing it to a pinpoint.

"Tell me how you're feeling?" the healer queried worriedly, seeing the tracker sway, his face going a sickly grey.

"Bad," was the softly rasped reply, then he gasped and pressed both of his hands to his right side, holding himself as still as he could and trying not to breathe any more deeply than he absolutely had to. Finally, after several long moments, he relaxed just slightly and slumped back against the wall, a light sheen of sweat coating his face. His body shook with exhaustion and he panted shallowly.

Jackson gingerly touched the tracker's sleeve. "Vin?"

"Jist don't let up, Doc," Vin moaned faintly, looking and sounding like he was at the end of his endurance.

Jackson's lips pressed into a thin line. This wasn't good. Vin _never_ protested, even when he should. To actually hear the tracker complain like this frightened the healer more than he'd ever want to admit.

Seeing the resulting look on Nathan's face, Chris sat down on Vin's other side, his hand coming up to rest lightly on the tracker's shoulder. "Hang on, pard," he said quietly, hearing footsteps coming back down the hall. "Even if the doctor isn't here, maybe his wife can do something to help the pain."

"We will most certainly try, you can rest assured of that," the old woman said as she reached them. Beside her was a black man, several years younger than Nathan.

"Now, what seems to be the problem here?" she asked, hazel eyes focused on Vin.

Tanner saw her gaze and started to stand, but the old woman reached out and lightly touched his shoulder, keeping him seated. "No reason to pile on the agony for courtesy's sake. I'm Anabell Griffiss, Dr. Benjamin Griffiss's wife, and this is Fredrick LaCroix, Benjamin's assistant. My husband is out of town this night, but I can send Timothy to the telegraph office to summon him back, if necessary."

"We'd appreciate it, ma'am," Nathan said and quickly made the introductions, although he was careful to omit Vin's last name before he added, "We're peacekeepers, been out chasing some Apache renegades who came up from Mexico."

Fredrick stepped up to Vin, saying, "If yuh can walk, sir, I'll take yuh into the examinin' room. Yuh can lie down, and Mrs. Griffiss will get a better look at yuh."

"'M real sorry t' disturb yer sleep, ma'am," Vin rasped as Chris and Nathan helped him to his feet. Too weak to walk unaided, Tanner leaned heavily on the gunslinger, who wrapped his arm around the tracker's shoulders to keep him on his feet.

Seeing Vin hesitate to take a step, Josiah moved to the younger man's side. Then, after a look at Larabee, he reached down and scooped the tracker up into his arms.

"Aw hell, J'siah, I c'n walk," Tanner complained weakly, but the words had no conviction in them, the tracker no longer sure he actually could. The hallway looked longer than a rough mile in a blizzard.

"I know you can, brother," Sanchez replied kindly, "but there's no need. It's just a short way, and you're not too heavy a burden."

Vin nodded, allowing himself to relax as much as he dared while the big preacher followed Fredrick and Nathan to another room near the end of the hallway.

Chris trailed behind them with Mrs. Griffiss. "My friend's been sick for two days, and it's gettin' worse," he told her.

Josiah entered the room and laid Vin on the examining table while Fredrick lit the lamps near the table.

"I used to be my husband's nurse," Mrs. Griffiss said, getting her first good look at the tracker, "until my hands became so knotted I couldn't be of any aid." She glanced down at Vin and said, "Now, why don't you tell me what's wrong so I'll know if we need to wire the doctor."

"He's had a bellyache for two days," Chris supplied.

"Three," Vin corrected him and fidgeted for a long moment, then asked, "Chris, think you an' J'siah c'n wait outside?"

Larabee hesitated, wondering what it was that Vin didn't want him to hear.

Seeing Chris' hesitation, the old woman added, "If it'll put your mind at ease, I've worked at my husband's side for well over thirty years."

"Yes, ma'am," Larabee said, his gaze locked with Tanner's. Then he glanced at Nathan, who nodded. He would be staying, no matter what Vin said. "We'll go talk to the sheriff; tell him about the renegades," he said, then turned and left, Josiah following him, the preacher's hand resting on the gunslinger's shoulder for support.

Once the two men were gone Mrs. Griffiss asked, "Do you want to tell me whatever is it you didn't want your friend to hear and worry on now?"

"This is worse 'n any bellyache I ever had," Vin said, glancing Nathan's way. "Been bringin' up all m' food fer two, maybe three days. An' m' guts been runnin' real bad, too – 'til I run outta food."

"And you hid all this from your friend?"

"Tried to, ma'am," he replied. "Didn't want t' put a worry on him. He'll jist blame himself fer not seein' how bad it was if'n he hears."

"Well, I suppose that was awfully thoughtful of you, Vin, but I'd be willing to wager that your friend would've rather known, and helped you." Tanner's cheeks turned rosy, and she patted his shoulder. "What's done is done. You just lie there and rest a little." She looked to Fredrick. "If you can get his clothes off I'll see what I can see."

Nathan helped Fredrick undress Vin, both men going slowly so they didn't jar the tracker too much. "You trained as a doctor?" Jackson asked the younger man as they worked.

Fredrick shook his head. "Oh, no, suh," he replied, his voice more thickly accented than Ezra's. "But Dr. Griffiss, he shows me lots o' things. I help him day and night now. I hope to attend medical school in Paris in a few more years. You?"

"Was a stretcher-bearer in the Union Army, picked up what I could, worked as an army medic for a time, too, but now I'm just a healer."

"From Four Corners?" Mrs. Griffiss asked as she carefully palpitated Tanner's abdomen.

Nathan nodded, looking slightly surprised.

"I thought your name sounded familiar. Benjamin and I have heard good things about you, Mr. Jackson," she explained when she saw Nathan's reaction. "We meant to look you up once we got good and settled here, but I haven't been strong enough to make the trip." She met Nathan's eyes and asked, "You know what this is?"

"Ain't sure, ma'am," Nathan admitted. "But I got an idea. You?"

"Sadly, I believe I do."

The healer hesitated a moment, his heart beginning to beat faster, then he asked softly, "Inflamed appendix?"

She nodded, her expression sad and worried. Then she turned to Vin and said, "Now, Vin, tell me _exactly_ when you first noticed that something was wrong."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Minutes passed slowly on the clock hanging on the wall in the hallway of the doctor's home, each minute watched carefully by the two men who had already returned from town. It was nearing 11 p.m.

A muffled yelp coming from the examining room brought Chris to his feet, but Josiah kept the gunslinger from heading straight into the room.

          A red-haired boy no older than fourteen appeared, carrying a tray with coffee.

          "Thank you, son," Josiah said, taking the cups from him.

          "Don't you worry none," he told them, his voice lightly accented. "Mrs. Griffiss is almost as good a doctor as the Doc is. She'll take good care of your friend, you'll see."

          "You have family here, son?" the preacher asked the boy, needing conversation to take his mind off the worry radiating from Larabee.

          "No, sir," the boy replied. "Was an orphan, back in Boston. Dr. Griffiss picked me out when I was but seven years of age. Been helping him and Mrs. Griffiss ever since. When they come west, I come with 'em gladly."

"Benjamin saw a notice in a medical journal and answered it," Mrs. Griffiss added, walking up to join them. "There are four towns hereabouts who decided they needed regular access to a physician. The people here aren't wealthy, but the mines are doing well enough to pay us for essentials and they built this house for us and gave Ben an office in each of the towns he visits. We grow our own food, and I do a little scribbling for the papers back in Boston, so we have a good life here."

          "So your husband's rather like a circuit preacher," Josiah said, nodding over the inventive solution.

          "Yes. Yes, I suppose he is," she agreed with a smile. "Benjamin makes his way to the three communities once every month, and whenever there's an emergency, of course. Usually Fredrick goes with him, but I was feeling poorly when he left this time, so he stayed here with me."

          Chris let the conversation wash over him, his concentration on the closed door of the examination room down the hall. He'd seen the tracker shot, stabbed, beaten and tortured, and Vin had never asked him to leave him; if anything he'd been grateful for Larabee's company. So why had he sent him away this time? Did he have a feeling he might be dying? Was he trying to spare Chris another tragic loss?

          "Timothy, dear, I need a bucket of the cold water from the barrel on the back porch," Mrs. Griffiss said, then looked at Chris and Josiah and added, "I think your friend has an inflamed appendix."

          "Appendix? The Doc will want to know, ma'am," the teen said, turning back, his eyes rounded with excitement. "You want me to telegraph him, Missis?"

          "Yes, dear, but _after_ you bring me that water," she said, then said to the peacekeepers, "Why don't you go on down and see him? I need to fetch a few things and I know he'd appreciate the company."

          Larabee led the way back to the examining room. Inside, he and Josiah saw Tanner was still lying on the examining table, but he was only wearing his long johns now. The blue eyes were closed.

"How's he doing?" Chris asked Nathan.

          "Got a 'pendicitis," Vin replied for the healer, his eyes opening. He frowned, not understanding what the devil the word meant, but he didn't think it sounded good.

          Timothy came in carrying a bucket of cold water which he set on a small table that was next to the wall not far from the table where Vin lay. Mrs. Griffiss was right behind him, carrying a white enamel pan in one hand, a stack of towels filling her free arm. "I'm very sorry, Vin, but I'm going to make you very uncomfortable in just a moment. And since I am, I think I should explain why…" She gave him a wink, a twinkle in her eyes. "Just so your friends here don't decide to shoot me."

          "Won't happen, ma'am," Vin rasped, glancing at his three friends.

          "Still, I want you to understand what's happening inside of you," she said, smiling at the serious tone he'd used. "Might make it a little less frightening." She walked over to a shelf of books, pulled one down and carried it back to the examining table.

          "Can you help him?" Chris asked her as she passed.

          "Not very much right now, but I think Benjamin will be able to once he's back." She leafed through the book and then opened it so all of the peacekeepers could see, but she spoke directly to Vin. "This is what your intestines look like, Vin. Food goes down to your stomach, then though the small intestines…" Her finger traced the path. "…and into the large intestine. That's where you find the appendix. Sometimes an appendix becomes infected, although we don't really understand why, and when it does, it swells. I believe the swelling and the infection are what's causing your discomfort."

          Vin rubbed gingerly at his side, which still ached furiously, although not as badly as when he'd been on horseback. "What's it do?" he asked her a little tentatively. "When it ain't infected."

          She smiled indulgently. "We don't really know that, either. But we do know that it's not essential for life. People who have lost their appendix have lived perfectly normal, full lives without it."

          "Lost it?" Tanner asked her, his brow furrowing worriedly. "Ya mean they got gut-shot?"

          "No, not necessarily," she replied enigmatically. "In any event, the best thing for you right now is to slow the infection's progress. A snow or an ice pack would be best, but lacking those as we are, we will just have to make do with what we do have." She slid a dry towel under Vin's right side, then took another and dipped it into the pan, filled with the water Timothy had brought in, soaking it thoroughly. "I'm afraid this is going to be rather cold," she warned the tracker. "Just grit your teeth and bear with it, I promise it will help the pain."

          Despite her warning, Tanner's eyes still flew wide open when she laid the cloth on his stomach, just above his right hip. "Damn!" he hissed, glaring daggers at the other three peacekeepers who seemed more than ready to allow the old woman to torture him, but he still apologized for his cursing. "Sorry, ma'am."

          "That's quite all right. I know this probably doesn't feel like much of an improvement to you right now but, believe me, it's saved people's lives."

Fredrick stepped up beside her and unfolded a light blanket that he draped over the tracker. "This'll help a little, suh."

"Try to get some rest, dear," she told Tanner. "I have to write out a note for Timothy to send to Dr. Griffiss." She shifted her attention from Tanner to Nathan, asking the healer, "Can you stay and help Fredrick? We need to keep changing that towel so that area stays as cold as we can make it."

          Jackson nodded, hoping he could talk Tanner into cooperating. If he couldn't, Chris probably could. But then, given the way the tracker was feeling, Nathan doubted he'd put up much of a fuss.

          Mrs. Griffiss met Chris' eyes, holding the gunman's gaze for a moment, then nodded toward the door before she started to leave. Larabee immediately followed her and as soon as they reached the end of the hallway, well out of earshot of the men still in the examining room, Larabee stopped her. "You said that's saved people's lives before. Is this really that dangerous?"

          The old woman nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid so. The cold packs will buy him some time, enough for Benjamin to return and perform surgery, I hope."

          That wasn't good enough for the gunslinger. "No offense, ma'am, but he's sick and hurting. Can't you just do what needs to be done, or talk Nathan through it?"

          "I need my husband to confirm my diagnosis. Benjamin has seen more appendicitis than most doctors. And he's seen most of his patients through it, too."

          Larabee frowned. "Seen them through? It's that dangerous?"

          The old woman glanced down for a moment, then raised her chin and met Larabee's stormy green eyes. "Most people as sick as that young man in there do not survive, Mr. Larabee."

          All the color drained from Chris' face and it was suddenly hard for him to breathe. She instantly grabbed his arm and guided him to the seat Vin had used and had him sit. He looked up at her, pain so obvious in his green eyes that she winced slightly.

"Ma'am, are you tellin' me Vin's going to die?"

          "No. Oh, no, dear," she said, reaching out to rest her hand on the gunslinger's arm, giving it a supportive squeeze. "There's a very good chance my husband can save him. Benjamin was very good friends with Dr. Fitz, who learned the technique for the surgical removal of an inflamed appendix while he was in Europe. Benjamin proved very adept at the procedure.

"Now, I won't lie to you, Mr. Larabee, the surgery has its risks, but it is nowhere near as risky as doing nothing. Do nothing and he will most certainly die." She sighed heavily. "I have only assisted my husband in the surgery, and I can no longer even do that with my hands the way they are. If things take a turn for the worse, I will attempt to talk Mr. Jackson through the procedure, but I pray that won't become necessary. It will take Benjamin two days, perhaps three to return, but I'm confident Vin should be able to hold out that long if we keep the cold packs in place and make sure he keeps taking small amounts of water."

          "I hope you're right, ma'am," Chris said, looking back at the closed door, his body shaking slightly with a chill that squeezed his heart like a tight fist. "I better tell the others."

          She nodded and they parted ways, Chris returning to the examining room, the old woman to write the note to her husband.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Vin closed his eyes and groaned, the continuing pain and new cold making him almost as uncomfortable as he'd felt on horseback. But then, lulled by the slow relief of the hot throb, he found himself drifting in and out of a light sleep until he heard Mrs. Griffiss step back into the room.

He forced his eyes open, finding that Larabee had returned as well, but he hadn't heard him. Chris had been talking to Nathan and Josiah, too. He frowned, knowing that whatever had passed between the three men, it had left them rattled. Larabee didn't say anything to him, but then the gunslinger didn't need to – the fear in his green eyes said it all.

Tanner swallowed thickly, his own anxiety rising. He was sicker than he understood. He tried to put on a good face, but then the pain in his side flared again and he knew a brave front wasn't worth the effort it would cost him. He was in a bad way, and nothing was going to change that – not unless Dr. Griffiss could help him somehow.

          He watched as Mrs. Griffiss set a tray down on the desk. "I had Timothy put your horses in the barn," she told them. "Have some coffee, gentlemen. It looks to be a long night."

          When she left them again, Nathan asked Chris, "So she's thinkin' her husband can get back in time to perform the operation?"

          Chris nodded, unable to meet Tanner's eyes.

          "Damn," Vin sighed. "They got t' cut on me t' fix this?"

          "So he'll take Vin's appendix out?" Josiah asked. "Like they would a bullet?"

          Nathan nodded. "Guessed that'd be what the doctor would do. I read that they're doing it back East now; it's workin' pretty good, too."

          "What if I jist wait it out?" Vin asked hopefully. He was willing to endure a lot to avoid being under the knife.

          The healer shook his head sadly. "Ain't gonna get no better, Vin. It'll kill ya if they don't take it out in time."

          "In time?" Vin asked him, his heart beginning to beat a little faster.

          Nathan pursed his lips, not really wanting to explain, but he'd backed himself into a corner and he knew Tanner wasn't going to let him out of it until he did. "This is just what I've read, ya understand," he said, gaze shifting from the tracker to the other two men. "What kills folks is the infection, bustin' out of the appendix and spreadin' through a man's guts."

          "Ah hell," Tanner moaned. "Ya mean it'll be like I got gut-shot?" He had seen men die horrible deaths after being gut-shot, or stabbed in the belly. And he had seen some of the Indians' more gruesome tortures. So the thought that he might die like that scared the tracker badly. "Don't want no one cuttin' up m' guts, but I don't want t' die like a gut-shot man neither."

"You'll be fine," Nathan tried to assure the tracker.

          Tanner looked up at Jackson, asking, "Can't you do it, Nate?"

          Nathan shook his head. "I've only read about the procedure, Vin. Dr. Griffiss, he's done it before, probably lots of times. He'll know what he's doing; take care of you."

          Vin nodded, knowing he had to find a way to escape the pain, one way or another. And it was clear Nathan was spooked about doing it himself, so he'd just have to wait for Dr. Griffiss to get back and do it.

          "You just lay there and do whatever Mrs. Griffiss tell you," Chris told the tracker, stepping up to the edge of the table and reaching out to rest his hand on the top of Vin's head. "We'll make sure the doc gets back here in time, I give you my word."

          Tanner nodded. "That's good enough fer me."

          Chris gave him a small smile, hoping he could keep that promise.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Very early Saturday morning**

 

          Less than an hour later, Timothy returned, out of breath – from the telegraph office – carrying two wires. One was from Buck, who had wanted to let Chris and the others know that the two renegades he, JD and Ezra had been hunting had managed to slip back into Mexico. The three men were headed back to Four Corners.

The second wire was from the doctor. Nathan saw Mrs. Griffiss frown as she read her husband's reply and asked her, "What is it, ma'am?"

          "Oh, dear. Mrs. Webber's baby was breech. She has puerperal fever."

"Childbed fever?" Nathan asked her.

She nodded. "Poor thing. Benjamin wants us to bring Vin to him."

          Jackson frowned. "Vin ain't in any condition to ride for two days, ma'am," he said before Chris or Josiah could.

          "No," Mrs. Griffiss said. "I realize that. I suppose the only thing to do is for you to take the wagon and get him to Benjamin."

          "Wagon?" Chris asked, not liking the sound of it.

"We could fill the bed with straw, pad that with plenty of blankets," Josiah suggested. "That should be a lot more comfortable than riding Peso would be."

          Mrs. Griffiss nodded. "We have a small feather mattress that should help, as well."

          "Hell," Vin said, his hand pressed lightly against the cold towel on his abdomen, "'M feelin' some better; I c'n ride." He was tired and weak, and he still ached all over but, for the moment, the insistent, burning throb had died away to a dull ache, a great improvement as far as the tracker was concerned.

          "No," Chris and Mrs. Griffiss replied together.

          Tanner's gaze caught Larabee's and the blond stepped up to the side of the table. "Ya got t' be careful, Cowboy," the tracker said quietly. "Perdue brothers are out there on the roads," he added. "They get a look at me, 'm good as dead."

          "You let me worry about them," Larabee said softly, making it clear that he would deal with the bounty hunters – permanently – if they gave the group any trouble.

          "Yuh should get started soon as the sun's up," Fredrick said. "I'll get some things together yuh might need. Timothy can show yuh which horses to hitch up."

"Timothy, come find me soon as you're done. I'll make sure you have some food to take with you," Mrs. Griffiss offered. She looked at Fredrick, saying, "Maybe you should go with them–"

"No, ma'am," the young black man said, shaking his head. "Dr. Griffiss never forgive me if I leave yuh here alone, yuh feeling poorly." He looked around at the men, adding, "I'm real sorry 'bout that."

"We'll be fine," Nathan assured him.

          "Aw hell," Tanner breathed, staring up at the ceiling, but not really seeing it. He took a deep breath, realizing that he didn't have a choice. He would have to go to the doctor, and if that also meant getting past a pair of bounty hunters, he would just have to trust his friends to protect him. It wasn't something he was used to doing, but he knew that these men would do everything they could to see him safely to the surgeon. He just hoped that they didn't have to pay for it with their lives. Vin knew he'd never be able to forgive himself if one of them died while trying to protect him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Dawn, Saturday morning**

 

          Josiah closed the tailgate of the Griffisses' wagon, peering over the side at the tracker. "You comfortable, brother?"

          "Like a babe in his mama's arms," Tanner replied, grinning up from his nest – a small feather mattress resting on a bed full of straw.

          Josiah grinned. Tanner was also covered with blankets, his head resting on a pair of pillows. He did look a little like a child, almost lost in a too-large bed. "Don't you worry now. Chris and Nathan will see to it that you get to the doctor safe and sound."

          Vin nodded, knowing that the big man wouldn't be going along with them.

          "It'll all be fine," Josiah promised him. "Don't you worry."

          Another nod, but Tanner couldn't help but worry. The Perdue brothers were out there, his side was hurting again, and he was heading for a man who was going to cut up his guts. Still, two men – especially two as dim as the Perdues – wouldn't give Chris much trouble. At least he hoped they wouldn't.

          Chris climbed up onto the wagon seat. It had been a long time since he'd handled more than a pair, but a four-horse hitch and a light rig like this one made sense for the mountain roads they'd be traversing. This particular rig – a sturdy buckboard with steel hoops that could support a canvas cover if the weather turned bad – was the best thing he'd ever seen for carrying someone who was sick or hurt.

          "This sure is some rig," Josiah commented. He was mounted on his gelding now, waiting to head back to Four Corners just in case the escaped renegades returned with reinforcements.

          "It's a modified ambulance," Nathan said as he climbed into the back with Vin. He recognized it from others he had seen during the war.

Fredrick nodded. "That's right. Dr. Griffiss brought it with him, all the way from Boston."

"How you feeling?" Jackson asked the tracker. "That towel still cold?"

          "'M fine," Tanner replied sleepily. "Towel's gettin' tolerable."

          "Then it's time to change it," Mrs. Griffiss said from where she stood at the side of the wagon, looking down at Tanner.

Nathan made short work of exchanging one towel for another, colder one.

          "I's afrid ya was gonna say that," Vin said, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth as the icy material touched him. "Ya sure this is gonna help, ma'am?" he squeaked as he forced his eyes open.

          "I'm sure," the old woman replied. She met Nathan's eyes and added, "See if he can drink a little water. Be sure to keep giving him water or broth throughout the day."

          "Just a little right now," Nathan cautioned Tanner. "If ya can keep it down, you can have some more in a little while."

          Vin nodded and took a couple of sips from the canteen Jackson held for him. "Thanks, Nate."

          "Try and get some sleep," Nathan told the tracker, pulling up the blanket to cover the tracker's shoulders.

Mrs. Griffiss nodded her agreement. "I'm afraid the road won't be very smooth once you reach the mountains." She handed Nathan a small bottle of laudanum.

Jackson nodded, understanding only too well what she wasn't saying.

          Vin's eyes fell shut, the cold towel doing its job and dulling the pain in his side. And he was tired, about as tired as he could ever remember feeling. In a few moments, he was sleeping.

Chris looked back, checking on the tracker, grateful when he saw Tanner resting, his face free of pain for the first time in days. "Time to go," he said, clucking and slapping the reins against the horses' backs. The team started off.

"God's speed," Mrs. Griffiss said, standing with her hand on Timothy's shoulder, Fredrick right behind her, as they watched the men leave.

Once on the main road, Josiah turned in one direction, the wagon taking the opposite.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Larabee set a pace that would push the horses without exhausting them too quickly. Nathan rode in the bed of the wagon behind him, the two men talking quietly while Tanner slept.

"Sure wish I knew more," Nathan said at one point. "Seems no matter how much I learn, there's still too much I just don't know."

          "You told me once that the Indians said a healer don't really cure anything. All they do is help people heal themselves. Think this doctor can help Vin do that?"

          Jackson glanced down at Vin. "He's lived with Indians; he's a fighter. He won't give up. And I believe Mrs. Griffiss when she says her husband's done this lots o' times. He'll take out Vin's appendix and he'll be good as new."

          "Hope you're right," Chris said softly.

 _Me, too_ , Nathan replied silently, his gaze shifting to Larabee's back. He had a bad feeling that if they lost the tracker, Chris wouldn't be too far behind. In any event, losing Vin would strip something vital out of the family they had become. He wasn't sure how, or why, but Tanner was the heart of their group. Chris was their head, their leader, but Vin was their heart. And nothing could lose its heart and still survive.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Mid-day, Saturday**

 

The tracker moaned softly, his eyes slowly blinking open. He looked up at the cloud-dotted sky and swallowed down the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him.

"Vin?" he heard Nathan call, but his voice sounded far away. "Vin, can ya take some water?"

Tanner shook his head, knowing that if he did, he'd lose the liquid as soon as it hit his stomach. "Don't feel s' good, Nate," he rasped.

Chris looked back over his shoulder. "Should I stop?" he asked the healer.

Jackson shook his head, moving closer and replacing the towel on Tanner's abdomen with a fresh, colder one.

Vin groaned as icy fingers seeped under his skin, spreading through his limbs like swiftly-growing vines. He shook with a chill and the healer immediately replaced the blankets over the tracker.

"Easy" Jackson soothed, giving Tanner's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I know it ain't comfortable, but it's the best medicine fo' ya right now."

Dulled blue eyes opened again. "'S gettin' worse," he breathed quietly, sluggish gaze shifting to Larabee's back.

"I know," Nathan replied just as softly. "Probably gonna get worse again little by little. Try to sleep."

The tracker closed his eyes, hoping he could sleep. And, a few moments later he slipped off.

"Nathan?" Chris called softly.

The healer worked his way over to the rear of the wagon bed, just behind the driver's seat.

"How's he doing?" Larabee asked softly.

Jackson shook his head, saying, "Ain't sure. Still ain't got a fever, but the cold packs don't seem to be helpin' as much as they was."

"Is he going to make it?"

"Can't rightly say," was the honest reply from the healer, and not at all what Larabee had been hoping to hear.

"Is there anything I can do?" Chris asked him.

"Push the horses hard as ya can… and pray."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Sunday morning, dawn**

 

          The two peacekeepers pushed on through the night, only stopping when they had to let the horses rest, Chris and Nathan switching places a few times to give Larabee a chance to ride in the back with Vin and get some sleep.

Near dawn, when it began to grow colder, Chris unrolled another blanket and laid it over the tracker, who was sleeping, albeit restlessly. He sat for a long moment, just watching the sleeping man, noting the way he grimaced and frowned when the pain grew more intense. Reaching out, Larabee gently rubbed Vin's arm, saying, "Easy, pard. We're a day closer to getting rid of this now."

At sunup Nathan drew the horses in at a small spring. Chris climbed out and unhitched the team, allowing them to drink their fill.

While Larabee took care of the horses, Nathan unpacked some of the food Mrs. Griffiss had sent so they could have breakfast. By unspoken agreement, they didn't wake Vin until after they'd finished eating. Water seemed to be the only thing the tracker's stomach could tolerate, and they didn't want to make it harder on the man than it needed to be.

When they did finally wake him, Tanner finished off a cup full of the liquid.

"How're you feeling?" Chris asked as he tightened the canteen top and set it aside.

          Vin sighed softly. "'Bout the same as when we started yesterday."

          Nathan frowned and pressed the back of his hand against Tanner's forehead. "Don't think you got a fever. That's a good sign."

          "Should let them horses cool off," Vin said airily. "Been pushin' 'em purty hard."

          "And you should get some more sleep," Nathan told him, adding softly to Larabee, "I'll keep a watch on him while you tend the horses."

          Chris nodded, climbing out of the wagon bed. He paused for a moment, staring worriedly at the tracker and hoping he could hang on for another day.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Sunday passed slowly for Vin as he was jostled along in the back of the buckboard. Without the bedding he rested on, he would have already been black and blue, but even stagecoach springs couldn't help level the ruts and gouges that the miners' carts and settlers' wagons had created in the road. He knew Chris weighed a choice between caution and speed, and was keeping the bumps to a minimum as he hurried them along toward the surgeon as quickly as he could, but Tanner still felt every one of the bumps and jars.

          And things weren't going very well with his rebelling appendix. By midday Tanner knew that the cold towels weren't working as well as they had been the day before. He didn't say anything about it, though, since his side still felt better than it had when he'd been riding, and he knew Nathan was already doing all he could for him. It wouldn't help to get the healer fretting about something he couldn't do anything about. And he really didn't want to get Chris in a worry.

          He pulled the blankets up higher and wished he weren't so lightheaded. At least his stomach stayed quieter when he didn't try to put anything into it. The chicken broth at lunchtime had been a disaster, but he could feel the effects of fasting over the last few days – his muscles had gotten weak, quaking with the smallest movements. And there had been a few times he'd thought maybe he was delirious, but he'd had fevers before and he knew this was something different, something that drained his strength without giving him a chance to fight back.

In an effort to ignore the increasingly persistent pain, he stared up at the clouds passing by overhead. After a short while he knew that they would be seeing some rain before the night was over. As his mind drifted, images emerged in the white wisps – horses, a wagon, JD's hat… and then some that were more troubling: smoke rising from burned teepees, a man's body lying sprawled on the ground…

Then a sharp stab of pain jerked him nearly upright on the mattress. He grabbed onto the side of the wagon, the world wobbling crazily in front of his eyes, which he squeezed shut.

"Vin?" Nathan called, jerking from sleep and crawling over to the tracker's side. "Vin, what's wrong?"

The tracker panted, trying to catch his breath as Larabee drew the wagon to a stop upon hearing the healer's worried question. When he could, Tanner allowed Nathan to lower him back onto the mattress.

"Tell me what happened," Nathan said.

"Pain stabbed me real good," Vin replied, shaking his head when Jackson offered him some water.

The healer changed the cold pack and then tried to make Vin as comfortable as possible while Chris kept glancing back over his shoulder to watch the progress. Then Larabee turned back to the horses and pushed them to pick up the pace, determined to get Tanner to the doctor as quickly as possible.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ * ~ *

 

          The weather stayed clear the rest of the afternoon, but then turned unpleasant, a west wind whipping up dust and splattering them with rain twice just before and after sunset. Then it began to rain steadily, slowing them down.

They had stopped after the first drops began to fall, quickly pulling the canvass up and over the metal hoops so Vin would be protected from the weather.

          Tanner tried to move out of the way so the two men could work around him easier, but he collapsed, muscles trembling from the lack of food. Nathan decided then and there that he would have the tracker try some broth again when they stopped for supper, hoping to build up the man's strength a little.

Eventually, when the mud got so bad the horses started to balk, Larabee stopped and built a small fire in a sheltered rock crevasse, warming some of the chicken broth Mrs. Griffiss had sent along.

          Vin had to admit that it smelled wonderful, and he forced himself to work his way though it slowly, hoping that might convince his stomach to accept it.

"Aw hell—" he gasped a few minutes after he'd finished the broth.

          Nathan grabbed an empty bucket and helped Vin sit up while the tracker was thoroughly sick.

          "Nathan?" Chris called at the sound of the retching, hurrying over from where he had been checking on the horses.

          "It's all right," the healer told him. "Guess his belly just ain't gonna let him hold down any food."

When the nausea finally passed, Jackson set the bucket out of the way and then wiped the tracker's face and neck with a cold towel.

          "C'n I have some water?" Tanner rasped painfully.

          "Just enough to rinse your mouth," Jackson instructed, letting the tracker spit it into the bucket. Then he checked Vin's pulse and temperature. "Best we let your belly settle down some before you try drinkin' any more."

The healer's expression was neutral, but Chris was beginning to catch the subtle differences and knew it wasn't good. Vin had thrown his arm across his face and was answering the healer's questions too softly for him to really hear them, but he could tell by the tone alone that the tracker was both frustrated and hurting.

          When the healer was done, Vin turned onto his side and pulled the blankets up around his ears, quickly dropping off into an exhausted sleep.

          "How's he doing?" Chris asked when Nathan settled back against the side of the wagon with a long sigh.

          "Not as good as I'd hoped," the healer admitted, scrubbing his hands over his face. "We've slowed the infection with the cold packs, but his appendix is still infected and it's just gettin' worse, slower than before, but still gettin' worse."

"If we keep up the same pace, do you think we'll get to the doctor in time?" Larabee asked him. Knowing Vin might be listening to them, he met Jackson's eyes and added silently, "The truth."

          Nathan shrugged.

And then it started to rain again.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Monday morning, dawn**

 

          Chris drove the horses straight through the night again, stopping only when he absolutely had to. Shortly before dawn they reached a spot Mrs. Griffiss had told them to watch for. The trail dipped down to a stream, the land spreading out into a sloping glade that was partially sheltered by the mountain. They were all travel-weary, and the horses were steaming from their efforts on the muddy road.

Larabee reined in and then unhitched the animals, giving them a hasty rubdown before leaving them tethered near the stream. The drizzle had finally stopped a couple of hours earlier, and his breath made a frosty cloud as he climbed back up to the road with a bucket of fresh, cold water. He set that next to the wagon for Nathan, then collected a few pieces of deadwood, knowing that they would be stopped long enough for him to build a fire and brew them some much-needed coffee.

          Vin might not be able to enjoy it, but he and Nathan would need it before the day was over.

          They had made good time once the rain had ended and he guessed that they should reach Sheltonville sometime Tuesday morning, even if they rested the horses for an hour or so now, which they needed. The team of four had done a great job so far, and he didn't want to take any chances with them.

          When he got back to the wagon with the wood, no one was in sight, but then Nathan called, "Chris, get in, it's cold out there."

          The wagon bed was about six foot square, Vin lying catty-corner across the center. Nathan had burrowed down into the straw on one side of the tracker, and Chris did the same on the other side.

          "Hell," Tanner said breathily, "a peace pipe an' a few feathers an' we'd look like a bunch 'a Indians."

          The other two men chuckled softly. "Long as we don't have to get naked," Nathan said, remembering what JD had told him about the sweat lodge he'd seen in Ko-Je's village.

          Vin chuckled softly, pressing a hand to his side. "Hell, Nate, 'm damn near nekked now."

          Chris warmed himself for a time, then said, "I'm going to go fix some coffee."

          Nathan nodded. "Vin's been keepin' water down for a few hours now. Think he can try some tea." He looked to Tanner. "Ya willin' to try?"

          Tanner made a face, but didn't say no. He knew all too well the value of Jackson's medicinal brews, even if they did taste like horse piss most of the time.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Monday, nearing noon**

 

          Vin spent the morning half-dozing, rocking with the motion of the wagon. Sometimes the pitching became a little more than his stomach could handle and Nathan or Chris would be there, helping him to sit up, holding the bucket for him, wiping his face afterward, and giving him water to rinse his mouth. The tracker hated losing control like that, but he hurt too much to fight them.

          Then, when the bout passed, he would lie back on the feather mattress, his mind foggier than it had been. The only thing he was clearly aware of was the pain in his side, throbbing in time with his heartbeat, and sometimes knotting up for minutes at a time. He couldn't block the pain out any more, and sleep was his only escape, but that was getting harder and harder to come by, and when he did manage it, his dreams began to turn on him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          He was running through open prairie land, chased by a pack of monsters. At first he'd thought they were wolves, but they didn't look like wolves, except for their long, sharp teeth. It was as if God had taken wolves and mountain cats and desert lizards and mixed up all their parts somehow.

The creatures were fast, snapping at his heels as he raced across the flat landscape, the sun beating down on him, stifling heat making it hard to breathe. Sweat ran into his eyes, making them sting and almost blinding him.

          Then the creatures broke out of the pack and spread out around him, ringing him. He staggered to a stop, gasping for breath. He drew his knife and swung around again and again, trying to keep an eye on all of the beasts at the same time. But the creatures warped and twisted in front of his eyes as they darted in and out, trying to get past his defenses.

          He tried rubbing one eye and then the other to clear them, but that didn't help. The beasts still writhed and contorted like they were made from melting wax.

          He looked up at the sun, the fiery orange-yellow ball far too close to the earth. It almost filled the sky, raining heat and fire from the sky in terrible waves.

          Looking back at the monsters he saw that they _were_ melting, writhing and screaming as they died horrible deaths.

Tanner looked down at his hands, watching as his skin began to melt off his bones. "No!" he cried. "No!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Open your eyes, Vin," someone was saying. "Come on, Vin. Open your eyes."

          That sounded easy, but it proved to be much harder than Tanner expected. However, he finally managed it and found himself looking up at a very worried Chris Larabee.

          "Easy, Vin. Easy, pard. How do you feel?" Chris asked him, using a damp cloth to gently wipe his face and neck.

          Vin wasn't sure how to answer that. He wasn't sure about anything.

          "You were making a lot of noise," Chris said and the tracker noticed that the healer was driving the wagon.

          Tanner concentrated, trying to clear his head. "What was I sayin'?"

          "Nothing that made any sense," Chris replied. "Think you were talking Indian of some kind. You were thrashing around quite a bit, too," he added. "You knocked off the cold pack. I need to put that back on."

          "D' ya have to?" Vin asked, his tone almost pleading. "I's cold already. Ain't that enough?"

          "It ain't the same thing," the healer called from the wagon seat. "I know this ain't easy on ya, Vin, but it's the only way we can keep that infection from gettin' bad."

          Vin nodded. He didn't feel hot any more. He was cold, really cold, and that was making his side scream with pain. He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the movement only forced him to grab for the bucket again. A few minutes later he sagged back onto the mattress, completely worn out. "Gettin' damn tired 'a this."

          "Don't blame you," Chris said, holding a cup of water to his lips. "Just take enough to rinse out your mouth."

          "Sorry t' be such a bother," Vin said after he spit the water into the bucket. He squeezed his eyes shut as another cramp grabbed him, squeezing his belly in a fist of pure torment. It tore through his side, stabbing along his nerves and making his whole body shriek. He heard someone making an awful whimpering noise that reflected well what he was feeling, then realized with horror that he was making the sound himself.

          When the pain finally ebbed he went limp. It didn't feel like there was much left of him; like the pain was slowly eating him alive from the inside out, leaving a hollow, empty shell behind that would collapse in on itself at any moment.

He looked up at Chris through a glaze of tears. "There any point t' all this?" he asked the gunman. "Y' think 'm goin' t' live through this, Chris?"

          "Yes, I do," Larabee said as he wiped Tanner's face again. He caught hold of the tracker's shoulder and squeezed gently. "We're making good time Vin. We'll be there tomorrow morning. I know it's bad, but if you can hold on a little while longer…"

          Another wave of pain drowned the gunslinger's words out. Vin curled up on it, knowing that it wouldn't really help, but he had to do something _,_ try somehow to fight back. The fearful prospect of death loomed over him, and he knew with perfect certainty that he might die. It was an oddly comforting thought, all in all. Dying would make the pain go away, and he wasn't sure that might not be a price worth paying for some relief. At least he knew he wouldn't die alone.

          Hands touched him, trying to pull him over onto his back, but Vin shoved them away. It was taking every bit of his concentration just to stay on top of the pain – more strength than he actually had left. He couldn't let anything else distract him or he'd slip into the agony and he might never find his way out again. He knew Chris was trying to say something to him, but just now it really didn't matter what it was.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Monday afternoon**

 

          Late in the day Larabee heard a commotion in the wagon bed and was already pulling the team to a halt before he heard Nathan call for his help. He halted the horses, tied them, and climbed into the back of the wagon, his heart racing.

          The sight that greeted him chilled Larabee to the bone. Vin had thrown off his blankets and was weakly trying to escape Nathan's touch. Tanner was lying like someone had kicked him hard in the stomach, gasping for breath, tears falling down his face.

"What's going on?" he asked worriedly.

          Jackson looked up, two days of travel and worry beginning to show in his harried expression. "He's in a lot of pain and not thinkin' too clear. We need to get him turned over so I can get a cold pack back on his belly."

          "Vin, settle down," Larabee snapped, moving closer to the tracker.

          Whether it was the gunslinger's tone of voice, or the fact that it was Larabee talking to him, it worked. Tanner stopped thrashing around and lay still for a few seconds, panting like he'd run all the way from Four Corners. Finally, he glanced around dazedly. "Chris?"

          Tanner looked awful, but Larabee forced an encouraging smile onto his face as he said, "Right here, pard. I want you to listen to me, Vin. Nathan's just trying to help you, you understand? So I want you to just settle down and let him help you. He needs to keep those cold towels on your belly until we can get you to the doctor, all right?"

          Vin hesitated a moment, like he didn't really understand what Larabee was saying, then he nodded and allowed Jackson to ease him back onto the bedding and cover him up, but there wasn't a speck of hope or fight left in his eyes.

          "Try to get a little sleep," Chris told him, pushing the tracker's sodden hair off his forehead. "We're almost there."

          "Sleep," Tanner agreed airily.

          It was all too clear to both men that Tanner was at the end of his rope and it was quickly fraying.

Nathan checked Vin's forehead and cheek with the back of his hand. "Better?" he asked the tracker, hoping the cold pack might be helping some.

          "Little," Vin said, finally able to catch his breath.

          "I'll change the cold pack soon, then you try to get some more sleep. With luck I won't need to bother you again for a while."

          A few minutes later the two men had Vin bundled up with a new cold pack in place. The tracker drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

Nathan climbed up to drive the team, leaving Chris with Vin, who seemed to quiet more when the gunslinger's hand was on his shoulder.

          In the wagon bed, Larabee watched his friend, knowing that while Vin might be sleeping, the rest wasn't taking his pain away any more.

          "Isn't there anything else we can do?" he asked Jackson. "Can't you give him some of that laudanum?"

          "He has another cramp like that last one, might have to," Nathan admitted, glancing back over his shoulder at the tracker. "But I'd rather not. His reactions let me know what's goin' on. If the pain jumps sharply and don't subside, or if his fever shoots up, we're in trouble."

          "He seems warmer," Chris said, pressing his hand against the tracker's cheek.

          "I know, but it ain't too bad yet."

          Chris touched Vin's forehead and sighed. Gunshot wounds he understood, or bellyaches from bad food, but this was beyond him. All he could see was that Tanner was hurting, and his color was off. "What's the other reason?" he asked the healer.

          "As soon as we get him to Dr. Griffiss, he's goin' to have to give him chloroform to put him under for the surgery. I don't want anything to make it harder fo' him to wake him up when it's over. Once I start givin' it to him, I'll have to keep givin' it to him 'til we get there."

          Chris nodded his understanding. He scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed heavily. Damn but he was tired . . . tired and hungry and sore. He couldn't imagine the kind of agony Vin must be enduring; he just knew he wanted it to stop – one way or another.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Monday night**

 

          An hour passed, then another, the sun setting behind the peaks. Twilight didn't last long in the mountains, though, and before long it was fully dark. Nathan drew the team to a halt.

          Chris heard Vin start awake and mumble, "Chris? Chris, I can't see."

          "Easy, pard," Larabee soothed him. "It's dark now, and you've got a blanket over your face." He flipped up the edge of the cover back and grinned down at the man. "Better?"

          Vin ignored the question and rolled carefully onto his back. "We there?" he asked, his voice sounding thin and tight, barely under control.

          "Close. We'll be there in the morning if we can keep up this pace. Think you can hold on that long?"

          "Reckon so." It was a whisper, and nowhere near as confident as Larabee had been hoping it would be.

          Chris felt for a temperature, fear spiking in his gut. There was heat in Tanner's skin that hadn't been there before. But then Vin's face had been under the blanket.

          "I'm gonna let the horses rest a bit," Nathan called back. "He awake?"

          "Yeah," Larabee replied.

          "See if he can keep some water down."

          Chris found the canteen, then slid his arm behind Vin and helped him sit up. "Think you can drink some water?"

          Vin nodded. He was thirsty, but then it seemed like he'd been hungry and thirsty for a long, long time now. _How long?_ he wondered, but he didn't know for sure. He'd lost track of time, the hours blending into one long nightmare of pain.

          "Nathan, he feels a little warm," Chris called.

          "Here, let me check," the healer said. He climbed into the wagon, waiting for Tanner to finish his water. "Does seem a bit warmer." Over Tanner's head he met Larabee's gaze, his expression grave. "Rain's makin' the road worse, too."

          "Get us moving again," Chris told him and Jackson nodded and climbed back onto the seat and got the horses moving as best they could on the muddy road.

          Vin shivered.

          "You want some more?"

          The tracker shook his head, another shiver running through him, just like they had been for about an hour now. He hunched in on himself with a stifled cry.

Chris grabbed him and held on. "Easy, Vin, easy. Try to relax, okay? Take a deep breath."

          Vin bobbed his head and managed a couple of shaky breaths, but then he doubled over, clutching desperately at Larabee's coat. He seemed to be fighting another spasm, but at least he wasn't getting sick again. Chris held on, hoping his presence made it a little easier for the tracker to ride the pain out.

          Tanner began to cry, softly at first, his sobs muffled against the collar of Larabee's black duster. But then it became all too clear what was happening.

Chris patted Vin's back awkwardly, wishing that there was something more he could do to help the tracker. He couldn't recall a single time when he'd seen Tanner cry – and certainly never from pain. So, either he was too worn out to fight it any longer, or he'd finally been pushed beyond his endurance. Maybe both.

          Chris gently rocked Vin back and forth like he would have with Adam, wondering how long it would take until the cramp eased. He was afraid to wonder what might happen if it didn't. Either way, there didn't seem to be a damn thing he could do. He felt helpless and he hated the feeling. He was just glad that he was sitting in such a way that he blocked the sight from Nathan. It was bad enough that Vin was hurting like this, he didn't need the extra beating to his pride that would come from letting someone else see him break down like this.

          After a few more minutes Vin seemed to quiet, his breathing easing a bit. Chris gave the man a little bit longer to pull himself together, then eased him back down onto the feather mattress. He reached over and pulled a towel out of a bucket of water and wrung it out as best he could.

          "Chris," Tanner called softly, his usually raspy voice hardly more than a raw whisper, "that happens ag'in… jist shoot me."

          Larabee sat, dumbly wondering why his lungs wouldn't work well enough to say "no." It felt like whatever was hurting Tanner had given him a good kick to his own stomach. Then his breath broke loose in something that might have been a laugh if he'd had the energy left for it. He held up his hands. "Sorry, pard, that ain't gonna happen."

          Vin closed his eyes again, retreating into whatever space he had found to escape or fight the pain from.

          "Nathan," Chris called, "pull 'em up." He climbed out onto the wagon seat, saying, "You need to give him something for the pain. Now."

          Jackson nodded with a sigh. He'd been afraid this time would come. Crawling over the seat to take the gunslinger's place at Tanner's side, he said a short, silent prayer. "Vin, I'm gonna give ya something to take the edge off that pain." He wiped Tanner's face with a damp cloth, then took a little laudanum and mixed it with water and helped the tracker take it. A few minutes later he asked, "Feelin' some better?'

          Vin nodded. "Still hurts," he whispered, "but don't seem so important now." He felt the wagon lurch and grunted, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to shut out the swarm of complaints his body kept throwing at him. The painkiller was helping, in its way, but it was also making it harder for him to concentrate and, for some reason he couldn't fathom, he felt much colder now than he had before. He huddled down under the blankets while Nathan prepared another cold pack and then replaced the one already on his side.

He feigned sleep, hoping the healer would leave him alone. But Nathan didn't, poking and prodding. And Vin learned that he was sore in more places than he'd realized. Jackson didn't look too happy about that fact, either.

"Tell me the truth," Tanner whispered, forcing his eyes open, his drug-glazed gaze meeting the healer's.

          Jackson settled back on his heels and sighed. "Your chances are still good, Vin. We just gotta get you into town quick as we can."

          "'M sore all over."

          "With what you've been doing to your gut muscles, I ain't surprised." He lightly touched the tracker's solar plexus. "It's sore here 'cause you've been sick to your stomach so much. Same goes for yo'r ribs. You been layin' here on yo'r back for a couple of days, so that's hurtin'. And, worst of all, yo'r body ain't got a way to get rid of the poison from the infection inside 'a ya. Infection makes a man ache terrible."

          Vin nodded, and Jackson began speaking again, but the tracker no longer heard the words. A grey, skeletal hand reached out through the fog of the painkiller and seized him around the middle. Pain like nothing that had come before lanced through the tracker, cutting off sight, breath and thought. And he had nothing left to fight back with.

          Something was pulling at his attention… insistent… persistent… demanding… a voice.

A voice was trying to speak to him, trying to reach him in the tormented place he'd fallen into. Who?

          He tried to focus, to listen, but it was nearly impossible as he fell continuously through the searing hell. He reached for the voice, desperate to latch onto it, to stop his descent into pure torment.

The voice was familiar, comforting, and he knew he should recognize it.

          He reached out to it, threw himself on the mercies it promised him.

          "Vin, listen to me, pard. You have to breathe. Breathe, damn it, Tanner."

          Breathe?

But then Vin noticed that he wasn't breathing. He needed to breathe. If he stopped he'd die. But then the pain would stop.

"Breathe damn you!"

He tried to draw a breath, but he couldn't. He panicked slightly, still uncertain if he should fight or allow the beckoning darkness to take him, remove him from the existence he associated only with pain. But the voice was insistent.

"Goddamn you, Tanner, fight! Breathe, damn it! Breathe!"

He couldn't stay the voice. He reached for it, fought for the air he needed to sustain his torture. And the pain blessedly eased slightly as Vin concentrated on pulling air into his lungs. A moment later he realized that he was holding Chris' hand so tightly that his own fingers were beginning to cramp.

As soon as he found the energy to move, Tanner slowly released his death grip. "Sorry," he managed, slowly getting his breath back. "Didn't mean t'… hurt ya?"

          "I'm fine, Vin. Don't you be worryin' about me," Chris said, running his fingers through Tanner's sodden hair.

"Vin, tell me what happened," Jackson asked, frowning at the bruise-like pain circles under Tanner's eyes.

          "Guess that… potion's… wearin' off, Doc," he said, the cold, sickly ache beginning to stir through his guts again.

          "Vin, listen to me," Jackson said. "This is real important. How do you feel compared to a little while ago?"

          "Huh?" Time had gotten fuzzy and he had no idea what Jackson meant. Right now all he wanted was for Chris to keep doing what he was doing. It felt good. It was the first thing that had felt good in longer than he could remember.

          "Vin, listen to me," the healer snapped. "How do you feel now, compared to when the attack started?"

          It took several moments, but then the words started to make some sense. "'S better, Nate… 's worse b'fore."

          "How does this feel?" Nathan asked, applying a light pressure and then tapping Tanner's abdomen.

          "Hurts," Vin moaned and flinched away.

"Easy," Chris soothed, his fingers still working their magic.

Tanner gritted his teeth and waited for the examination to end, trying to concentrate on what felt good.

          Nathan finished, changed the towel, and then pulled the blankets up again. "I gave ya a light dose of laudanum before, Vin. The next few hours might be easier if ya take a bit more now. Ya want it?"

          Vin thought for a moment. If he took the painkiller he knew he'd just drift off, but he wasn't sure to where. If he fell back into the hell he'd just escaped he was afraid he'd never find his way out again. Besides, that would mean abandoning the small measure of pleasure that Chris was providing and he desperately didn't want to lose that. He shook his head.

          Nathan nodded, very glad of the decision, even if it did mean that Vin might suffer more. He checked Tanner's temperature again.

Vin could hear the healer talking to Chris and wondered what they were saying. Not that it really mattered. He knew he was getting worse, but there was nothing he could do now except try and hang on and, failing that, say goodbye before the darkness took him beyond his friends' reach.

It was enough that Chris' hands brought him a reminder of something that wasn't pain. He surrendered to that touch, to the man who was responsible for it, and to the friendship that was more than friendship they shared. He could no longer care for himself, so he gave himself over to the men who could and would take care of him, two of them here with him in the wagon, and four others riding to his side even now. And in that moment of surrender, he felt a peace like none he'd ever known.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Nathan looked up, meeting Larabee's eyes and saying, "I'll drive the rest of the way. He needs you now."

          "Nathan?"

          The healer shook his head. "I just don't know, Chris. His temperature's up and the pain's comin' back, but he refused the laudanum."

          Fear made the gunslinger's heart beat fast. "What does that mean, Nathan?"

          "Means we better get there quick as we can," was all the man said, climbing up onto the seat and taking up the reins.

          Larabee asked, "He gonna make it that far?"

          "I hope so," was all Jackson was willing to offer.

          Chris sighed softly and settled more comfortable next to the tracker, his fingers still stroking through the man's hair. "It won't be long now," he said softly, although he didn't know if it was death or surgery that was going to save his friend.

          Tanner only nodded weakly as he lay with his eyes closed, looking more tired than Chris thought a living man ever could. Then the tracker's expression contorted into a mask of pure agony and he curled up in the blankets with a strangled moan.

Chris moved to help, but the tracker pushed him away.

          "Vin, calm down," Larabee pleaded, afraid that the violent cramps assailing the tracker might rupture his appendix all by themselves.

But Tanner didn't calm down, fighting like a sick bobcat whenever Chris tried to touch him. "Vin, damn it, it's me. It's Chris," he told the thrashing man. "I'm not letting you go, you hear me? I'm not letting you go."

          That seemed to break through the pain and Vin didn't fight him when Larabee touched the tracker's shoulder this time. Weak with relief, Chris pulled Tanner back onto the feather mattress. His next task was to get a cold towel back in place. He couldn't tell if it was helping any more, but at least he was doing something. "Just take it easy, Vin. We'll be there soon… And I'll be right here until we are. You hear me? I'll be right here, holdin' on to you. I'm not letting you go, Vin." He didn't know what else to say that might help.

          Vin kept trying to curl up – maybe it hurt less that way – so Chris scooted around behind him and helped him to sit up. That stopped the thrashing, but it didn't seem to ease the pain at all, and although Tanner wasn't making much noise, fierce shudders passed though his body every few seconds. Vin reached up, clinging to Larabee's arm like it was a lifeline.

          Terror trickled down the back of Larabee's neck. How much longer before they reached Sheltonville? He could feel that the tracker's fever had gone up and the cramps didn't seem to be stopping… was it too late already? Nathan hadn't held out much hope for Vin if his appendix burst before they got him to the doctor.

          "Easy, Vin, relax." Larabee had an awful flash of memory – holding a young soldier in the war while he died a terrible death, gut-shot. Chris let his head fall back against the side of the wagon. Not again. Not Vin. _Please, God_ , he prayed silently, _please, not like that. Not Vin_.

          He tightened his hold on Tanner, trying to push the despair away. It would be so pointless for things to end like this, especially after all the scrapes they had been through. And before Vin had had an opportunity to clear his name. It just wasn't fair.

          "Chris?" The whisper was dry and a little squeaky.

          Larabee hastily pulled himself together. "I'm right here, pard." Tanner was still shivering, but his breathing seemed to be returning to something closer to normal. "You want me to get Nathan? You need some of that laudanum?"

          "No… 'm okay."

 _Yeah, sure you are_ , Chris thought. But he was scared. Tanner sounded so worn out, hopeless.

Then, as if he'd read Larabee's thought, the tracker whispered, "Don't mean t' scare ya none."

          "I'm just worried, that's all." He eased the tracker down and spread another blanket over Vin. "You’re shaking. Are you cold?"

          "Not much… gettin' better… got t' tell ya… if 'm gonna' die… rather do it here… with ya with me." He ran out of energy, but Chris could tell he wasn't finished yet. Still, he wasn't at all sure he wanted to hear the rest.

          Finally, Vin caught his breath again. "Ain't had no family… not since I's a little feller… means more t' me 'n ya know, Chris… jist wanted t' say m' thanks."

          "I understand," Chris said softly, his eyes stinging. And he did, perhaps better than the tracker knew. He'd been nothing more than a shell when he'd met Tanner – dead on the inside. But then he saw those blue eyes, saw the depth of the soul behind them, and knew he couldn't let this man face death without him at his side. And they'd walked though life side by side every moment since. He couldn't lose Vin. Not and survive. He'd return to what he was before he'd met Tanner. He'd die all over again. "You're gonna survive this, Vin. You have to."

          But now that he'd finally said his peace to Larabee, all the strength Vin had left seemed to drain out of him. His eyes slid shut and, in a few minutes, he slipped into a light, restless doze, cradled in the arms of the man he called brother, and so much more.

 _Small wonder_ , Chris thought. He knew Vin had been running on pure grit ever since they'd killed the renegades, maybe before. Maybe now he could build a little strength back before the surgery. And he would live to have the surgery.

          Chris leaned back against the side of the wagon and closed his own eyes, praying to whatever god chose to listen that Tanner be spared.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Tuesday morning, dawn**

 

          "Chris."

          Larabee's eyes blinked open. He was unsure how long he'd been asleep, and he glanced over at Vin, but the tracker was still out. He checked the man's fever, but it didn't feel any worse than it had earlier, when he'd said goodbye.

          "Chris."

          He grunted and climbed over so he could see out the front of the wagon, but there was still nothing but darkness. "Something wrong?" he asked Nathan, noticing the first faint trails of grey that had started to streak the sky.

          "Nope. The town should be just up ahead. Should get there just about sun-up. How's he doin'?"

          "Been sleepin'."

          "Best thing fo' him," Nathan said, his own voice stained with exhaustion, and Larabee suddenly felt guilty. He'd forced the healer to drive the wagon half the night, while he'd slept.

          "Want me to take over?" he asked Jackson.

          "No need," Nathan said. "I can see the lights up ahead."

A half hour later they entered Sheltonville as the sun rose. They asked the first man they passed where Dr. Griffiss' office could be found and the old timer pointed to a building halfway down the street. They moved on, pulling up outside the building.

A moment after they did the door opened and two young men hurried out with a stretcher. They were followed by an older, white-haired man, who called, "Don't jostle him too much!" to the stretcher-bearers.

          Chris waited as the two men pulled the tailgate down then, with Nathan's help, they moved Vin from the feather mattress onto the stretcher. The healer jumped down and hurried after the pair, already talking to the doctor, who called, "The table in the room to your right!" as the boys entered the house with Vin.

          Inside the room, the two young men held the stretcher steady while Nathan and Chris transferred Vin onto the table. Dr. Griffiss dismissed the boys and then stalked across the room to get his medical equipment ready.

"Get him scrubbed," the physician told Nathan, glancing at the healer over his shoulder. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jackson."

"Likewise, sir," Nathan responded.

          Larabee removed Vin's long johns while the healer fetched a pan of soapy water from the woodstove in the corner of the room. Once the tracker was naked, Nathan scrubbed Tanner's abdomen twice with the sudsy water. By then the doctor had joined him and Griffiss rinsed the tracker's skin with alcohol and then painted him with iodine.

          "Thought this was… gonna be… an operation," Vin slurred as he watched the doctor rubbing the iodine over his belly, "not a war dance."

          Larabee couldn't help but grin, but he knew Tanner's humor was a fragile thing, as sharp and as brittle as an ice crystal. The surgery was suddenly real – for all of them – something that might or might not work. The details of preparing Vin for it had thoroughly spooked Larabee, and the tracker as well, it seemed.

          "You ever administered chloroform?" Dr. Griffiss asked Nathan and the healer nodded. "Good, it's over there."

          Jackson returned quickly with a small wire basket and a bottle. "You ready, sir?" Nathan asked him, knowing every moment that they waited might be a death sentence for the tracker.

          "Just about." Griffiss moved back to the stove, holding a sieve in a pot of boiling water. "I want to give these instruments a little longer to boil. You go ahead."

          Jackson nodded and held up the bottle and the basket so Tanner could see them. "Vin, I'm gonna put some of this chloroform on this cotton and hold it over your nose and mouth. I want ya to just breathe normal. You'll be asleep 'fore ya know it and when ya wake up, it'll all be over."

          _One way or another_ , the tracker thought, watching the basket like a bird hypnotized by a snake.

"Vin?" Nathan asked again when he got no response.

Tanner met his eyes and nodded, then he pulled his gaze away and stared at Larabee. "Chris," he said softly, everything he was feeling escaping in his tone and expression.

Chris stepped up to the side of the table and took Tanner's hand in his, saying, "I'll be right here, pard."

          Vin nodded. "Thanks, Cowboy… fer ever'thing."

          Chris nodded, although he felt more like crying and wasn't at all sure why.

          Vin took a deep breath, his grip on Larabee's hand tightening slightly. He'd never wanted to die alone, and he knew now that he wouldn't. Chris would be here with him. He looked back at Nathan and nodded that he was ready.

          Jackson poured out a small amount of the liquid and placed the basket lightly over Vin's nose and mouth, the chloroform taking just seconds to do its work.

Tanner's eyes lost their focus, then slid shut. A moment later his hand went slack in Larabee's grasp. Chris held it a moment longer, then tucked it back under the sheet that Nathan had used to cover the tracker.

          "I'll take good care of him," Dr. Griffiss said, coming over. "Uh-oh."

          "What's wrong?" Nathan asked him.

          "He's starting to come around already." The doctor peeled up one of Vin's eyelids. "That's the trouble with chloroform – some people go out for hours, some wake up right away. Too damn unpredictable." He put a few more drops in the inhaler and placed it over Tanner's face again. He looked up at Larabee. "You have any trouble with the sight of blood?"

          Chris shook his head.

          "Wash your hands then," Griffiss said. "And don't touch anything unless I tell you to. If anything falls on the floor, leave it there. All I want you to do is watch your friend's breathing and give him another sniff of the chloroform if I think he needs it. I'm going to need Mr. Jackson here to assist me – at least until we see what's going on in there. But I don't want him waking up too soon if we run into trouble. Mind that you don't give him more than a sniff, though, or he might not wake up at all."

          Chris nodded his understanding, but he could feel his palms beginning to get damp as his anxiety climbed. What if he accidentally killed his best friend?

          "Oh, and you might not want to watch," Griffiss added, speaking directly to Larabee. "I passed out cold the first time I saw an operation."

          "Hell, Doc, I've dug bullets out of him before," Chris said, a little offended. "And had 'em dug out of me, too," he added.

          The older man just nodded. "Just be sure not to breathe too much of that chloroform yourself. It can knock you out, too; tricky stuff." Then he looked at Nathan and asked, "Ready?"

          "Yes, sir, I am," Nathan replied, swallowing hard and hoping he was up to the challenge that he was facing.

          "Very good, then. Hand me that scalpel and let's save this boy's life, shall we?"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The surgery went much faster than Larabee had guessed it would – twenty minutes at the most, he figured. Dr. Griffiss' movements were swift and efficient, but Chris had been unable to watch the whole operation. Somewhere about the second layer of muscle it suddenly struck him that this was _Vin_ being carved up like a side of beef, and that observation almost made his stomach turn over. Or maybe it was the heavy, sweetish reek of the chloroform.

          In either case, the gunslinger had taken a half-step back, drew in a deep breath, and forced his attention onto watching for any signs that Tanner might be waking. He thought it was nothing less than miraculous that the tracker just lay there while the physician cut into him like that. He was obvious that the tracker couldn't feel anything that was happening to him, but how was that possible? Still, Chris knew that it was true. Vin's eyes remained closed, his expression peaceful, and his breathing steady.

          Before he knew it, Nathan was standing beside him, peeking under Vin's eyelids and saying, "Think he's comin' out of it now."

          "Fine, fine," Griffiss said. "Another stitch here and I'll be finished too." He tied off a knot with the heavy black thread and then sighed softly with satisfaction. The job was done. "We got it in time," he added, looking up at the two men. "But I must say your friend had a damn stubborn appendix."

          Chris blinked, then smiled. "Just like everything else about him," he replied, then asked, "It's over? All of it?"

          "Yes, it's over," Griffiss assured him. "And he appears to be doing fine. He'll be awake in a little while now, although he most likely won't be coherent. We'll keep a close eye on him, in case of infection, but, barring that, he should make a full recovery."

          Chris felt his shoulders sag with relief and suddenly he felt so tired he wasn't sure he could hold himself on his feet. All he wanted to do was curl up and sleep for a week.

Nathan saw the exhaustion on Larabee's face and asked the doctor, "There someplace we can wash up and get some sleep?"

"Yes, of course," the old man said. "I'm sure you're both exhausted after that trip. Come along and I'll show you—"

"No," Chris said. "I promised him I'd be here."

"He won't remember if you are or aren't when he comes around this time," Griffiss promised, but Larabee refused to leave.

Nathan found two chairs and set one on either side of the table and the two peacekeepers sat down, waiting for Tanner to come around. And he did, a few minutes later, blue eyes still glazed by the chloroform, but he called, "C'ris," his voice thick and slurred.

"Right here, pard," Larabee said, taking the tracker's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "You're going to be just fine. It's all over."

"M' 'pendix 's gone?"

"Yep. You just get some sleep now. Me and Nathan are goin' to do the same."

Vin nodded, his eyes closing, but he whispered, "Ya didn't let me go, Cowboy."

Larabee leaned over the tracker, whispering into his ear, "Nope, I didn't let you go, Vin… need you too damn much to do that. Y' hear me? So you have to rest now, and get well. Promise me."

Vin nodded, the corners of his mouth tightening into a small smile. "Ain't goin' nowhere. I promise," he breathed airily, slipping into a healing sleep.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~* ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Wednesday morning**

 

          Vin drifted slowly toward the embrace of consciousness. It felt like he was floating on a cloud, rising higher and higher into the sky, and he wondered for a moment if he ought to be afraid of falling, but he couldn't hold onto the worry long enough to make it real. He tried to look around, but it was dark. Not black, but shadowed, unfocused. He frowned.

If he was floating on a cloud, shouldn't it be bright with sunlight? Shouldn't there be blue sky overhead?

Unless he was floating in the middle of the cloud… a grey, stormy-looking cloud… but was that possible? Wouldn't he just fall though?

And how'd he get all the way up here, anyway?

But then he couldn't remember exactly where "here" was, or how he'd gotten there, so he let the questions, and the worry, go. It was enough to just float, cradled in the soft, fuzzy truth that was his cloud, so peaceful, so quiet.

He was used to quiet. Not silence. The wilderness was never silent, but it was quiet in ways men and women who lived in towns and cities could never understand. The Indians understood. They valued the quiet. They knew the quiet was where a man went to find himself. And Vin knew he hadn't found himself… not just yet, anyway

Hadn't really, since he'd finally bought his way out of buffalo hunting and took up bounty hunting in its place. It hadn't been a conscious choice on his part really, just something he'd fallen into, but he'd never felt it in his blood. Had known it wasn’t what he was meant to do with his life.

Hell, he hadn't really felt anything in his blood until that day in Four Corners.

The day he'd met Chris Larabee's gaze and knew he'd found his destiny.

The Indians had a word for it, but the whites didn't. They didn't have a word to describe knowing, down deep in your soul that you were in the right place, at the right time, with the right people. That the man you rode with was the one the Spirits had created just for that purpose. That the two of you had been meant to find one another – and that meeting had been written, long before, in the stars overhead – meant to ride together, to complete the missing portions of each other’s souls. He wondered sometimes how white men could live without words for things so important.

But he knew words weren't really necessary. It was in the quiet that he and Chris spoke what was truly in their hearts. And now, lying in his cloud-shrouded quiet he could hear the soft sound of Larabee's breath being drawn in, then slowly escaping, the blond gunslinger sleeping somewhere close by. The sure knowledge warmed his soul and Vin stretched slightly, trying to remember what it felt like to wear his body again. A stitch caught and pulled in his side, sending a tiny flare of pain coursing through his otherwise peaceful awareness.

Pain. He'd become so familiar with it that he'd somehow forgotten what the absence of pain felt like. But then it wasn't completely absent, he realized. And he frowned again.

The wonderful floating feeling began to fade and he knew his back was pressed against something… something still… and soft… and supportive. He could feel his limbs, too, sore and weak. And his bones too close to the surface of his skin. He could smell his sweat, dried to the surface of that skin and soured by the pain that had held him prisoner for far too long.

So he hadn't been flying. He had been sleeping, might yet be sleeping; trapped in the world between the worlds. It was the path shaman walked to speak to the Spirits and Vin wondered if there were Spirits here with him now.

He glanced around him, but there didn't appear to be anything there, just the comforting awareness that Chris was somewhere close by. If he could just wake himself, he would see the man. He could speak to him. But he wasn't at all sure how one went about waking up from this Spirit place.

          He tried to lift his eyelids, but they were heavy and uncooperative. The effort, however, seemed to lift the veil a little higher and he became more aware of his body… of the bed he was lying upon… of the sound of embers, cracking in a stove close by. He could even feel his eyes, moving beneath his closed lids and before he forced them open he wondered why he couldn't remember when Peso had stomped on him. He ought to remember something like that, shouldn't he? It was the only explanation he could come up with to explain how his belly felt. Or was it?

Another answer drifted just out of his reach and he shied away from it, toying with the idea of going back to sleep. But then his memory improved and curiosity got the better of him. He peeked out from under his eyelids and saw early morning sunlight filtering through a window. Beside the window was a closet door and, next to that open door, an older man was stretched out on a cot, his back to Vin, his feet sticking off the end of the cot close to a small woodstove. Vin didn't recognize the man, or the room, and he saw no signs of Chris or Nathan, although he was sure that both were near.

          He tried to sit up and look for them, but only managed to lift his head off the pillow before sheer exhaustion pulled it right back down. His stomach ached more, and when he reached down to rub it he found a thick, bulky bandage in the way. Then he remembered it all – the renegades, his appendix, the wagon trip and, finally, going to sleep with only the faintest hope of ever waking up again.

          But here he was, awake, a bandage on his belly, which still hurt, but nothing like the way it had before, not anything like it had before. So, he must still be alive. And that meant that the man lying on the cot must be Dr. Benjamin Griffiss.

          Vin smiled thinly. Chris had promised him that they would get him to the surgeon in time, and, as always, Larabee had been true to his word. And, for a moment the fact that he had such a friend was nearly overwhelming.

          "Vin? You awake? Ya feelin' better?"

          Tanner turned his head to the side and found Nathan just standing up from a chair where he had obviously been sitting for a while.

          "Reckon so," he said and discovered that, while his mouth felt like it was stuffed full of bad-tasting cotton wool, his mind was remarkably clear. "How long?"

          "Were you sleepin'?" Nathan asked him.

          Tanner nodded.

          "Since early yesterday morning," he said. "You woke up right after the surgery, but ya probably don't remember that, do you?"

          Vin shook his head, guessing it must be around seven in the morning now. Then vague memories of waking up, sicker than a dog, filtered through the foggy veil that still held him in its grasp. "R'member… thought it… hadn't worked."

          "That was just a reaction to the chloroform," Nathan explained softly. "Ya should go back to sleep, now. Ya need to rest, build your strength back."

          "Ain't sleepy."

          "You want some water, then? Maybe some broth?"

          Vin nodded. Both sounded wonderful. "M' legs feel hollow," he rasped. "When c'n I… get somethin' t' eat?"

          "Not too soon, young man. I'm afraid it will be liquids for a couple of days, and then soft foods for another couple," Dr. Griffiss said, sitting up on his cot. "After that, well, we'll see how you're doing and decide then."

          The tracker heard water being pouring from a pitcher at the head of his bed, and then Nathan was helping him to sit up to drink it. It was the best tasting water he'd ever had, and he finished the whole cup without so much as a tiny grumble from his belly.

          "C'n I have a little more?" he asked the healer hopefully.

          "In a bit. I want ya to try some broth first."

          Tanner nodded his agreement.

          While Nathan busied himself at the stove Vin tried to figure out where Chris was. A few moments later the healer handed him a mug full of steaming liquid and the warm aroma of chicken broth was simply too distracting to be ignored. After one tentative sip he forgot all about Larabee and the soup vanished in no time, Tanner completely distracted by the wonderful taste and the fact that the food stayed down.

          When he finished it was Chris who took the empty cup from him, smiling and saying, "Welcome back, pard."

          Vin grinned sleepily, "'S too bad it was yer ugly face I had t' wake up to."

          "Could always shoot you, ya know," Larabee growled back, but the lingering smile was enough to reassure the tracker he was perfectly safe.

"How does the incision feel?" Dr. Griffiss asked him, coming over to the bedside.

Vin thought for a moment, then shrugged and said, "A little sore, but ain't like b'fore. 'Preciate all ya done fer me, Doc. Figgered I was done in."

"Well, you were far closer than you might like to know. But you're quite welcome," the older man replied. "Now, why don't you get some sleep, let your body heal."

Vin lay back down and closed his eyes. He had been awake just a moment ago, but now he felt tired and drained. "Chris," he heard himself say, but his voice sounded like it was coming from the far end of a long mine shaft.

"I'm right here," was Larabee's reply, reaching out to give Tanner's arm a gentle squeeze. "You need something?"

The tracker had a reply, but he couldn't keep his mind focused on what he'd wanted to say. The warmth of the blankets curled around him, melting his thoughts away and he sank tranquilly into a healing slumber. But, as he drifted off, he felt the reassuring touch of his friend's hand on his shoulder.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Wednesday, early afternoon**

 

          The doctor was there when Vin awoke next, telling him that it was time to change the dressing on his incision. The process wasn't too uncomfortable, but a host of other minor medical indignities followed, leaving Tanner a little skittish.

          "Hungry?" Griffiss asked him when he was finally finished.

          Vin nodded, saying, "Reckon so." Anything to get the older man away from him for a while.

          Larabee, who had been watching the whole procedure from a chair near the bed, stood and crossed the room. He ladled out a bowlful of broth and carried it over to the tracker, knowing Vin would be more comfortable with him than with Griffiss.

          "Where's Nate?" Tanner asked him as Larabee lifted him up partway and slid another pillow behind him.

          "Gettin' some sleep," Chris replied. "I'm going to send him back to Four Corners tomorrow."

          Vin nodded his understanding, then tried to push himself up a little farther. He stopped suddenly when his side protested the action.

          "Easy, son," Dr. Griffiss said from where he sat at his desk. "Those stitches need time to heal, so go easy whenever you try moving around."

          "How long?" Tanner asked him.

          "Well, you're going to need to stay in bed for three, maybe four days, then we'll see if you can't get up and sit in a chair, start having you walk a little."

"When c'n I ride?" the tracker asked him.

"Ride? Oh, you won't be able to ride for at least… three weeks."

          Vin's eyes rounded with equal measures of surprise and despair. "Three weeks?"

          The older man nodded, trying hard not to smile at his patient's tone. "At least three weeks. It might be more. You wouldn't want to ruin all that hard work I did, now would you?"

          "Eat your soup," Chris said before Tanner could start to argue with the doctor and was surprised when the tracker actually acquiesced. It appeared that, at least for the moment, Vin knew he wasn't up to anything more than just resting. How long that would last, he couldn't even begin to guess, but he'd be willing to wager it would be a whole lot quicker than three weeks.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Thursday and Friday**

 

          Most of the next two days passed in a hazy fog for Vin, who could only force himself to stay awake for a couple of hours at a time, sleeping away the rest of the days. The time when he was awake was taken up by eating broth and changes of the dressing on the surgical wound, which had become infected.

Dr. Griffiss assured Chris and Vin that some infection was perfectly normal, but it was uncomfortable enough to make the tracker restless and just serious enough to steal any energy he might have otherwise been able to build up from all the sleep and the regular meals.

Vin was both grateful and humbled that Chris was there beside him each time he awoke, ready to help him, whether it be to eat, or to bring him some more water, or to help him answer the call of nature. As the fever climbed, Larabee also helped ease away the aches in his arms and legs by rubbing them.

The usual comfortable silence the two men shared gave way to softly spoken conversations, Tanner opening up and talking about his life for the first time, and then listening to Larabee's story in return. Each man came away from the talks with more respect for his friend. Other times, Chris would read to him, the story and the sound of the gunslinger's voice as he shifted from character to character both entertaining the track immensely.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Friday afternoon**

 

          Vin awakened and stretched carefully. His side still felt a little tender, but he was finally starting to feel rested when he escaped the sleep that seemed determined to hold him.

          "'Bout time you woke up again," he heard Larabee say.

          Tanner yawned and carefully eased himself up so he was leaning back against the headboard. "'M gettin' tired 'a sleepin' all the time."

          "Yeah, I would be too. But I have something here that might help."

          Vin looked over at the stove where Larabee worked, wondering what it was going to be this time – chicken broth, beef broth, or barley soup. When Chris returned with a small bowl full of mashed potatoes, the tracker's mouth began to water.

          Larabee chuckled at the hungry look in Tanner's eyes as he handed the bowl over. "Just go slow."

          Vin nodded, diving into the meal and enjoying it more than he'd expected.

          While the tracker ate, Chris sat down next to the bed and opened the book he had been reading out loud, picking up where he'd left off when Vin had fallen asleep after his breakfast.

          Tanner listened, grinning and chuckling as he listened to the misadventures of a young boy on the Mississippi River.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Saturday morning**

 

          "Tired of being stuck in that bed, Vin?" Dr. Griffiss asked after Tanner finished off his breakfast of eggs and bread soaked in milk.

          Vin's expression brightened. "Ya mean it, Doc?" The prospect of escaping the bed, even for a short while, sounded like nothing short of emancipation.

          "Yep," the old man said, chuckling softly. "It's time we got you moving around again, let you build up some strength." He took a spare blanket and draped it across the chair sitting near the small cook stove

          Chris grinned and stood up from his own chair, ready to help however he could. And once again, Vin was impressed and humbled by his friend’s patience and willingness to help.

          The doctor moved back to the bed and offered Tanner his arm, saying, "A little walk will do you good; help get your guts working again. Take my arm and sit up like you normally would."

          Tanner nodded and grasped the older man's forearm. The stitches pinched as he sat up, making him grimace, but he was able to ignore it.

          "That hurt?" the doctor asked him.

          "Little," he admitted a little sheepishly. As much as he wanted to get out of bed, he was suddenly anxious about moving around too much.

          "Don't worry, you’re doing fine," Griffiss assured him. "Now, go ahead and stand up."

          Chris stepped up and took Vin's other arm and the tracker slid off the edge of the bed and slowly straightened. It didn't hurt too much, but he felt a bit lightheaded and was glad for the support the two men were offering.

          "You all right?" Chris asked him.

          "Reckon." He looked down and concentrated on making his feet work, taking one step, then another, and another, until he reached the chair. Once there, he lowered himself down, gritting his teeth in anticipation, but the maneuver was much less painful than he'd expected.

          The doctor tucked the blanket around him as Vin settled back with a sigh. It did feel good to be sitting up for a change. He glanced around the room, enjoying the simple fact that he was seeing it from a different angle.

          "Ready to eat some more?" Griffiss asked him.

          Tanner nodded. He was always ready to eat these days, but he only got halfway through a dish of peaches before his eyelids began to droop. "Aw hell," he sighed, knowing he wouldn't be able to ignore it for long.

"That's all right," Griffiss reassured him. "You did fine."

Chris and the doctor waited for Vin to finish off the last of his peaches, then helped him back to bed where he lay down and immediately fell asleep.

The doctor smiled and nodded. "He's doing much better than I expected," he said, looking down at his patient. Then he glanced up at Larabee and added, "But don't tell him I said so. I have a feeling he'd think that meant he was ready to go home."

Chris grinned. "Probably would."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Saturday night, late**

 

          Tanner knew it was late when he woke next. The lamp was out and no shadows danced in the windows from the street fires outside. In fact, the only light in the room came from the orange glow behind the grate of the cook stove. And in that faint illumination he could see Larabee sitting in the same chair Vin had used earlier. He frowned. That meant that Chris and the doctor were still taking turns watching him through the nights – probably due to the lingering infection.

          The tracker watched quietly for a few moments. Larabee leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped above his knees. It almost looked like the man was praying, but Vin found that hard to believe. But the gunman's appearance was one of worry.

          "Kinda late fer ya t' be up, ain't it?" he asked softly.

          Chris glanced over and, finding him awake, stood and crossed to the bedside chair, sitting down again there. "You all right?"

          Tanner nodded, wishing they would stop asking him that. He knew he wasn't going to stop worrying himself until they did.

          "Want anything? There's still some soup left, and some bread and peaches."

          "Reckon the bread and peaches," Vin said. "'M gettin' damn tired of soup."

          "I'll be right back," Chris said, walking quietly over to break some bread into a bowl before he poured the last of the peaches over it and carried it back to Tanner. He sat down to keep the tracker company while he ate.

          "Somethin' on yer mind?" Van asked after a few bites.

          Chris looked up, meeting his eyes. "Perdue brothers rode into town just before dark."

          Vin felt his heart begin to race. They had been heading the opposite direction from Sheltonville when they'd left Rudy Wells. "They lookin' fer me?"

          Larabee shrugged. "Don't know yet." Then he added, "Nothin' to worry about one way or another."

          The tracker finished off his bread and peaches, then accepted a cup of water from Larabee, draining that as well. Despite what Larabee had said, the man looked worried. They both knew it would be at least a few more days before the others arrived from Four Corners. Until then, they would just have to lie low and hope the bounty hunters weren't there looking for him.

          "Let this wait too long," Tanner said softly.

          Chris refilled the cup with more water and set it on a small table Griffiss had found. It would be within easy reach if Vin wanted it later. "Clearing your name?" the blond guessed.

          The tracker nodded.

          "And with Eli Joe dead, just how do you plan on doing that?"

          Tanner thought for a moment, then sighed. "Hell, I don't know, Chris. But I'm gettin' damn tired 'a lookin' over m' shoulder all the time."

          Larabee couldn't imagine living with a price on his head. It was bad enough that he had enemies and a reputation that inclined young men with more guts than brains to sometimes call him out in order to see if they could make a reputation for themselves. But to live as a wanted man, when he was innocent, well, that was something the gunman wasn't certain he could do. And in Vin's case, it was Larabee's fault. He had shot and killed the one man who could clear Tanner of the murder charge. He looked down, suddenly unable to meet the tracker's eyes.

          "Hell, Chris, it weren't yer fault."

"Like hell it wasn't," Larabee muttered. "I should've winged him instead."

          "Ya go 'round wingin' 'em, an' one 'a 'em is goin' t' kill ya. Ya did what had t' be done."

          "Damn it, Tanner, he was the only one who could clear you."

          Vin sighed softly. They'd had this talk more than once, but no matter what he said Chris refused to let it go. "Like I told ya, Cowboy, cain't clear m' name if'n I'm dead. Figger I'll jist tell the sheriff the truth an' hope he believes me."

          "You can't take that kind of chance," Larabee argued.

          "Better 'n gettin' m'self shot by some bounty hunter lookin' t' collect that five hundred dollars. Least I's have a chance."

          "Look, if you're really serious about this then let's wait 'til we get back to Four Corners. We can talk to the Judge, see what he has to say. Maybe he knows someone who could help you."

          "Hell, Cowboy, soon as ya tell 'im the truth he's goin' t' have t' lock me up. He's a good man, but he lives the law like Josiah does his bible. I don't reckon on spendin' the rest 'a m' life in no cell neither. Ain't sure what'd be worst, that or hangin'. Both look pretty bad t' me."

          Larabee knew the tracker was right, but he couldn't come up with a better idea. He didn't want Tanner to end up dead at the end of a rope, or by a bullet, and, as long as he was alive, he knew he wouldn't allow either one to happen, no matter what it might cost him.

          "Look," Chris said, "you should get some more sleep."

          Tanner nodded, but he was already making plans.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Sunday morning**

 

          A light knock on the clinic door brought Vin awake instantly. He glanced around, finding the room empty, which sent a momentary panic coursing through his veins. Then he remembered. Dr. Griffiss was at church and Larabee had headed over to get himself some breakfast at the restaurant in the hotel.

          The knock sounded again.

          Tanner tossed the blankets back and sat up. Then he pushed up to his feet and started for the closet where he knew his Mare's Leg was hanging on a peg behind the closed door. It was a long way from the bed to the closet for the healing man and he wished he had something to hang on to, his balance not what it ought to be.

          He stumbled just as he reached the closed door and leaned against the wall as a wave of dizziness swept over him. The vertigo didn't let up as he reached out and weakly gripped the knob, pulling the door open. He took a deep breath and took down the Mare's Leg, hoping that the darkness prickling along the edges of his vision didn't overcome him too quickly.

          Then he heard voices, men's voices outside. He couldn't make out exactly how many, but there had to be at least three, maybe four.

          He managed to pull the gun from its holster and get it ready to fire. Then he slipped into the closet, pulled the door shut and waited. The minutes that passed as he remained hidden felt like hours, but he had no other choice. He would face the Perdue brothers on his feet, a gun in his hands.

          "Vin?"

          He recognized the voice immediately. "Chris?" he called weakly, pushing the door open and stepping out of the closet. The room began to spin again and he would have fallen if Larabee had moved swiftly, grabbing him and pressing him back against the wall. Tanner knew he couldn't move, even if his life depended on it, and he wasn't sure that it didn't. "Perdue br–"

          "Gone," Chris said. "The Doc chased 'em off." And, just as he finished, Griffiss stepped into the room, his gaze sweeping over the two men.

          "What happened?" he asked, crossing quickly to Larabee's side.

          "Heard a knock an' somebody tryin' t' open the door," Vin managed as the two men helped him back to the bed and got him lying down.

          Tanner closed his eyes, willing the dizziness to go away. A twinge in his side made him wince and before he could say anything, the doctor was checking under the dressing and doing God knew what. He forced his eyes open. "They know 'm here?"

          Chris nodded. "Seems like they've at least got some suspicions."

          "Hell," Vin breathed. "We got t' get out 'a here."

          "Vin, you got dizzy walkin' across the room. How the hell do you think you can ride?" Larabee asked him.

          "He _can't_ ride," Griffiss said. "He tries and he'll tear those stitches open."

          "Might not have a choice, Doc," Vin replied airily. "Ain't goin' t' lay here 'n' wait fer 'em t' kill me. Perdue brothers never take a bounty in alive if they c'n get paid the same fer 'em dead."

          "Bounty?" the surgeon questioned.

          "That's _not_ going to happen," Larabee insisted.

          "Maybe I should speak to the sheriff," Dr. Griffiss said, clearly confused by the whole conversation.

          "No," the two peacekeepers replied in unison.

          "Vin's wanted in Texas for a murder he didn't commit," Larabee explained. He didn't like telling the man, but he didn't see as he had much choice if they were going to get Griffiss' cooperation. "You tell the sheriff, he'll have to arrest him."

          Benjamin looked from one man to the other. "Then how do we protect him from these men?"

          "I'll do that," Larabee said, his tone hard edged with conviction.

          "Chris," Vin said, starting to sound a little stronger, "y can't take a chance with the Doc's life."

          Larabee looked down at the tracker, knowing he was right. Meeting the doctor's eyes he asked, "Shouldn't you be getting back to your wife?"

          Griffiss frowned. "In a few days, but not until Vin's eating solid food and able to stay awake for several hours at a time."

          Chris didn't like it, but he also knew he wouldn't be able to get the man to leave before he was sure Tanner was all right. And, to be honest, he was glad to have the man there to watch over his friend's recovery. But it meant he was going to have to keep an eye on the surgeon as well as the wanted tracker.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Sunday night**

 

          Vin was up on the rooftops, running as fast as he could. As he neared the edge of the building, he gathered himself and, at the last possible moment, he leaped across the space to the next rooftop and kept running. He knew he had to hurry, although he wasn't sure why, or where it was he was going. But he continued to run.

          His side ached and he pressed his hand to it, ignoring the pain as he continued on. He leaped across another space and stumbled to a stop. _No_ , he thought, _that can't be possible!_

          But it was. Chris and Eli Joe were locked in a pitched, hand to hand battle, and they were moving ever closer to the edge of the roof.

          Vin leaped the last space separating him from the two men and stumbled to a stop. His side was hurting more now, fiery tendrils snaking through his guts and almost making him sick.

          Sunlight, glinting off something in Eli Joe's hand, drew Tanner's attention and he realized that it was a knife. And that the man was getting ready to use it on Larabee. His Mare's Leg came up in his hands, but it was already too late. Eli Joe plunged the knife into Chris' belly, the gunman crying out.

          "No!" Vin yelled, watching as blood bubbled up and over Larabee's lips and the man's green eyes locked on his, round with pain and surprise. "Chris!"

          Eli Joe jerked the knife free, laughing. He looked at Tanner and raised the knife over his head, letting loose with a war cry. Larabee dropped to his knees, his hands pressed to his belly, trying to hold back the torrent of blood that flowed between his fingers. And as Vin watched, the life in the man's green eyes slowly faded away.

          "Chris!" he cried again.

Tanner pulled the trigger on the Mare's Leg, watching from the corner of his eye as Eli Joe was lifted off his feet and thrown off the edge of the roof. He could hear the man's scream as he fell, but he didn't care. He dropped the Mare's Leg and rushed to Larabee's side just in time to catch the man as he pitched forward.

          "Chris?" he called softly as he cradled the man in his arms. "Chris?"

          Green eyes fluttered open and Larabee stared up at him. "Ya shouldn't've killed him," he breathed, blood frothing over his lips. "He could've cleared your name." And then the eyes dropped closed again.

          "Chris?" Vin called, but this time he knew there would be no answer coming. "Chris!" he cried.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Vin? Vin, settle down."

          Hands grabbed his arms and Tanner jerked awake. Chris was leaning over him, holding him down.

          "Settle down," Larabee repeated. "You're going to hurt yourself."

          Tanner relaxed, forcing away the haunting images that still clung to his awareness. Chris was alive – alive and well.

          "That's it," the blond said.

          The pressure in his side let up and the tracker realized that Dr. Griffiss was there as well, and had been pressing down on the bandage.

          "Easy, son," the older man said. "I don't want you to pull out those stitches now."

          Vin nodded but he couldn't seem to stop his body from shaking, and his heart was still racing.

          "I'll get him some water," the doctor said and stepped away.

Tanner heard the cup being filled and then Chris was lifting him up and holding the cup to his lips. He gulped the cool liquid down, then sighed as he sagged in Larabee's grasp.

"Bad dreams?" Chris asked him.

He nodded, more relieved than he could really explain; thankfully he didn't have to.

"Just the last of your fever breaking," Griffiss said. "I know it probably doesn't feel like it right now, but it's a good thing."

Vin nodded, his eyes closing as he tried again to will his body to cease shaking, but it didn't work any better this time than it had the last. Images from the dream flashed through his mind and he forced his eyes open, not wanting to see Larabee die like that again.

"Easy, easy," Chris said, reaching out to push the sweat-damp hair off Tanner's forehead. "Whatever it was, it was just a dream."

Tanner nodded, but he wasn't quite sure that fact meant that there wasn't any danger to Larabee. The Spirits used dreams to teach and to warn. Maybe they were trying to tell him that Chris was in danger here. That the Perdue brothers were going to kill him. And he couldn't allow that to happen.

Just then a loud knock sounded at the door.

Chris shot to his feet, his Colt in his hand an instant later. Griffiss sucked in a sharp breath at Larabee's speed. "You expecting anyone?" the gunman asked him.

Dr. Griffiss shook his head.

Then a voice called, "Benjamin! Benjamin, it's Sally! She's havin' her baby!"

"Oh no," the older man breathed. "It's too soon." He stalked over and grabbed his black bag, saying over his shoulder as he left, "Keep him in bed and resting; give him plenty of water and whatever food he can tolerate. I'll be back as soon as I can."

And then he was gone and Chris and Vin were alone.

"You heard the man," Chris said. "Get some sleep."

Vin didn't want to sleep, afraid the dreams might return, but his body seemed to have a mind of its own these days. His eyes dropped closed and he was soon slumbering again. But this time Larabee stayed right where he was, determined to protect his friend.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Monday morning, just before dawn**

 

          Vin awoke out of another bad dream, panting as he tried to catch his breath. He had seen Larabee killed again.

Being as quiet as he could, Tanner pushed himself up and then leaned over to get the cup of water waiting for him on the small bedside table. He drained the cup and set it down, then sagged back against his pillows. That's when he heard it, the unmistakable snick of a pistol being cocked.

He looked, finding Larabee standing near the window, his Colt in his hand. "What's goin' on?"

"Just saw the Perdues leave the livery."

"Could be they's leavin' town."

"Could be they're going to make their move. They have a spare horse with 'em."

"Help me up," Tanner said.

"You stay put," Chris told him. "I'll take care of this." The blond moved away from the window, heading for the door.

"Chris," Tanner called, but it did nothing to stop the gunslinger. "Chris!" Larabee was gone.

Vin waited only a moment, then tossed the blankets back and sat up. He was getting stronger, but the walk to the storage room to get his Mare's Leg still left him breathing hard and trembling with fatigue. He stopped long enough to pull his pants on, then drew in a deep breath, wiped the sweat from his face, and forced himself back onto his feet.

He crossed the room, opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. There, using the wall for support, he made his way slowly to the front door of the clinic. Pulling it open just a crack, he checked the street. There was no one out yet, the sun still not up. There was also no sign of Larabee.

Cursing softly, he closed the door, bolted it, and made his way down the hall to the opposite end. Dr. Griffiss had had him shuffling up and down the passage to build his strength, but this time it looked much longer than it had in a while. Still, he finally reached the back door to the clinic and opened it just far enough to get a look at the alley, leaning heavily against the wall as he did.

Just then he saw a rifle barrel start to poke through the open door. Tanner slammed the door closed and threw the bolt across it. He managed a step back a moment before something heavy hit the door, causing the boards to creak under the assault. Dalton Perdue was a sizeable man, he knew. Must be him.

Tanner hurried as quickly as he could back to his room, just stepping inside when Dalton crashed through the back door. Vin shut his door as well, grabbing a chair and wedging the back under the door knob to buy himself some time, or so he'd hoped. But Daniel Perdue stepped out of the storage closet, his Colt already in his hand and pointed at Vin.

"That's far enough, Tanner."

The tracker froze, his Mare's Leg in his hands and pointed at the bounty hunter.

Dalton pounded on the door, bellowing, "Daniel, open the door!"

"Can't," the younger man called. "Got us a standoff in here."

They both heard Dalton curse.

"Where's your friend?" Daniel asked the tracker.

Vin shrugged. "Don't matter. Ya got me. What're ya goin' t' do with me?"

"Gonna kill ya and take ya back t' Tascosa, collect that five hundred dollar bounty."

"I don't think so," Larabee said, stepping into the room from the storage closet, surprising both Tanner and Perdue.

Events suddenly began to seem dream-like for the tracker, seemingly unfolding slower than they really were, and Vin saw the young bounty hunter's finger begin to tighten on the trigger as Daniel turned away from him and aimed at the closet – at Chris. The tracker felt his own finger begin to tighten as well, but he was also turning away from both of the other men in the room, although he didn't really understand why.

There was a deafening roar inside the room – Larabee's Colt – and Tanner caught sight of Perdue as he was spun, arms and legs flapping loose-jointed for a moment before he collapsed to the floor. In the same moment, the door burst open, the chair skittering across the floor and colliding with the stove.

Dalton stepped into the room in time to see his brother hit the floor the split second before he yelled and pumped out a shot in Larabee's direction. He missed the gunslinger, but shattered the window. And in the same instant that Perdue fired, Tanner sank slightly, getting off two quick shots with the Mare's Leg, the force of the impacts picking Perdue up and knocking him back out the door.

And everything returned to normal speed. Vin swung back, his gaze sweeping frantically over the room, looking for Larabee. "Chris?" he called.

Chris pushed himself up off the floor, his Colt still in his hand. He approached Daniel Perdue first, checking to make sure that the man was dead before he crossed the room and stepped out into the hallway to check on Dalton. The older Perdue brother was slumped against the far wall of the hallway, his chest and face a mangled, bloody mess. He didn't have to check to know the man was dead.

When Chris heard a dull _thud_ in the other room, he holstered his Colt and stepped back in to find Tanner on the floor.

"Vin!" he called, two swift strides carrying him to the tracker's side. He knelt down, quickly checking to see if the man had somehow gotten shot, but he was fine.

"How'd ya get in here?" Vin asked airily, his muscles quaking with fatigue, his legs no longer strong enough to support him.

"Root cellar," Larabee replied. "Opens up in the closet."

"Probably the same way Perdue got in."

Chris nodded. "He left the door to the cellar open. I couldn't miss it." Then he reached down, saying, "Come on, let's get you back into bed before you ruin all of the Doc's hard work."

With the gunslinger's help Tanner was able to get to his feet and shuffle over to the bed. He sank down onto the edge and then stretched out, wishing he didn't feel like he'd just been trampled by a herd of buffs. Chris poured him some water, which he drank down gratefully.

A moment later the local sheriff and one of his deputies burst into the room, their guns drawn.

Chris and Vin both raised their hands, knowing that the lawmen might be quick on their triggers.

The sheriff frowned, looking down at Daniel Perdue. "Mr. Larabee, what's going on?"

Chris pulled a blanket up over Vin, then turned to the lawman. "Hell if I know, Sheriff," he replied smoothly. "This one came out of the Doc's storage closet and the other one busted the door down and started shooting." He nodded at the shattered window.

"You boys all right?" the lawmen asked them, walking over to check Daniel while his deputy stepped out into the hall to look Dalton over.

"Think so," Chris replied, "but I'll be glad when Dr. Griffiss gets back and can take a look at his stitches."

Sheriff Tom Henry glanced from the dead man to the two regulators again. The injured man, whose name he hadn't gotten, looked pale and shaky, Larabee calm and collected. He'd heard plenty about Chris Larabee, and the other six men who protected the small desert town of Four Corners, and all of it was good.

"Doc's got himself a cellar. He probably used that to get into the clinic," he said, nodding at Daniel Perdue.

Larabee nodded. "What do you figure he was after?" he asked, hoping the Perdues hadn't stopped to tell the sheriff that they were after a bounty in his town.

Henry shrugged one shoulder. "Never seen 'em before. Might be after some of the Doc's drugs – had that happen a couple 'a times already. Or maybe they thought the Doc had some money stashed in the clinic."

Larabee nodded. "Need some help hauling 'em over to the undertakers?"

The deputy nodded. "I'd appreciate it. The one out in the hall is a big feller."

The sheriff looked to the man in bed, asking, "How're ya doin', son?"

"Reckon I'll live," Tanner replied.

"Never got your n–"

"If ya don't mind, Sheriff, I'd like to get these bodies out of here so I can clean the place up before the Doc gets back," Chris interrupted. "He's off delivering a baby."

"Sally Adams," the lawman said, looking thoughtful. "Hell, she' ain't due for another couple 'a weeks." Henry hesitated for a moment, then nodded. He didn't need to know what was going on. Larabee and his friend were peacekeepers, just like he was. Besides, he'd heard Orin Travis had hired them all personally to protect the town his daughter-in-law and grandson lived in, and that was good enough for him. Hell, couldn't ask for a better recommendation, if you asked him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Monday evening**

 

          Vin awoke to the tantalizing smell of pot roast and the buzz of achingly familiar voices. He lay still, enjoying the sounds and smells and allowing himself to come fully awake.

So, the others had finally arrived – Buck and Josiah. He hoped that meant they would _all_ be returning home soon.

          Home.

          Good Lord Almighty, when had he started to think about Four Corners and the men he worked with as home, family?

Not that it really mattered. He did, and they all seemed to feel the same. Even Ezra, who tried harder than the rest of them to deny both.

          And he _would_ be going home, he knew. The Perdues were dead. The sheriff hadn't asked any more questions, and Dr. Griffiss had seen him earlier and had said that he hadn't done any harm to himself.

Larabee had kept his promise, just like he always did. And Chris hadn't been hurt either. All in all, Vin decided that the Spirits had been good to him, and he would have to make a point of thanking them good and proper when he got back.

          He opened his eyes then, watching as Buck fussed over a tray. Josiah was seated close by, watching the ladies' man while Chris paced, clearly growing impatient with Wilmington's antics. Dr. Griffiss was nowhere to be seen.

          "Well, welcome back, brother," Josiah rumbled softly, seeing that Vin was awake.

          "That m' dinner?" the tracker asked Sanchez.

          The former priest nodded.

          "And it's all ready for ya now," Buck said, carrying the tray over.

          Tanner's mouth started watering as soon as he saw what was there – roast beef, mashed potatoes and a pile of string beans.

          Chris walked over and helped Vin sit up, slipping a couple of extra pillows behind him so he could lean back to eat. Tanner glanced up at the man, knowing that something was bothering him. "Ya look like ya got somethin' chewin' on ya."

          Chris hesitated a moment, then nodded. "I'm worried about the sheriff getting curious about why two known bounty hunters would break into Dr. Griffiss' clinic."

          Tanner nodded. "Guess if he does I'll be takin' care of that business sooner 'stead 'a later."

          "There has to be some way to—"

          "Ya heard the Doc, Lar'bee. Can't ride fer another couple 'a weeks."

          "Vin, I'm not going to—"

          "Gotta be done, Cowboy – sooner or later."

          Larabee's eyes flashed, but he held his tongue. "Eat," he finally said. "The sooner you get your strength back, the sooner we can go home."

          _Home_ , Vin thought. _Damn, but I like the sound 'a that_.

          "So, ya been over to the saloon?" Buck asked the tracker, sitting down next to Josiah. "There's this little gal over there who could turn a cat's head away from cream…"

%MCEPASTEBIN%


End file.
